THE MINER'S DREAM. 

A MINING DRAMA 
IN FIVE ACTS. 



By Dr. Albert Carr. 



HILL CITY S. D. 
~ 1910 



©CI.D 22 83 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 

A MINING DRAMA IN 
FIVE ACTS. 



BY DR. ALBERT CARR. 



^^ Copyright^ 1909 by Albert Carr. 



Copyright, 1910 by Albert Carr 



CAUTION. The presentation of this drama for 
profit without the permission of it's propriator 
is strictly forbidden. Managers desiring to 
produce this drama are respectfully requested 
to communicate with the author. 



HILL CITY S. D. 
1910 



4 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

find a true vein we know we got some- 

tbin. Jo's no fool, and he's dead stuck 

on his ground. But he needed money 

for developemeat, and went back home 

to see if he could raise a little. He don't 

say it right out in his letters, but I am 

eartain soraethin has occurred that has 

pat him in high sperrits. 1 can't think 

of anything else that would do that fer 

him, but money to develope his claim. 

Enter SuryanUy L. She is very 

plainly dressed, and dusty and 

wayworn. 

Saryann. I beg your pardon, sir, but 
can you tell lue, where I will find the 
Gold Nugget mine? 

Jim. The Gold Nugget mine? That's 
about a mile from here. They're workin 
about a dozen men thar, and widder 
Flynn is runnin the boardin house. 

Saryann. That's the place. 

Jim. Did you come from town? 

Saryann. Yes, this morning, 

Jim. Did you walk all the way? 

Saryann. No; I rode with some peo- 
ple up to where this road turns off from 
the main road — about three miles below 
here. They put me on this road, and 
then drove off the other way. 

Jim. That was mortal kind of 'em. 
I'll bet it was those Bentons! 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 5 

Saryann. That sounds like the nauae. 

Jim. They'll do a person a favor that 
don't cost nothin, but they'll never go 
out of their way to do it. They're 
Hoosiers; they came from Injiana. 

Saryann. They seemed like well- 
meaning people. 

Jsra, Yas, they mean well, but that's 
as fur as they ever git. Say, young 
woman, my name's Jim Brier. Anything 
I can do fer you, just say so. 

Saryann. How is the road to Mrs. 
Flynn's? Is one liable to get off it? 

Jim. If one is not acquainted with it, 
it's liable to Jead to most anywhar. It's 
rough, and part of it only fit fer a 
squeerrel to climb, 

Saryann. Are there people living 
along the road? 

Jim. Not a soul until you git to the 
Gold Nugget mine. la widder Fiynn a 
relation o'yourn? ' 

Saryann. No. I was told in town, she 
wanted someone to work for her; that 
she was a good, kind woman, and so — 

Jim. You've come after the job? 

Saryann. Yes. I would like the place. 

Jim. She's a good woman. Her 
maiden name is Bridget, and that's 
enough to tell you, she didn't come from 
Sweden. What's your name? 



6 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Saryann. They called me, Saryann, at 
home. I like that name. Call me that. 

Jim. 1 will: — but is that your first 
name or your last name? 

Saryann. Whether tirst or last, it is 
my name. 

Jim. [Aside.] She's a mighty hand- 
some woman, whoever she is. She 
seems a little careful about her name. 
Huh, huh!— May be— Oh, wal! [Aloud.] 
I'm workin at the Gold Nugget, myself, 
and bofirdm at widder Flynn'g. This 
place here belongs to a friend of mine, 
who is liable to drop in here any day 
with a bunch of cap'iists. He writ me to 
straighten his cabin up, and have it in 
shape. That is what I am here for. So, 
if you can wait until I do a little fussin 
and fixin, and arrangin of affairs around 
here, I'll show ycu the way to the Gold 
Nugget mine. 

Saryann. I am in no hurry. Can't I 
help you clean up the cabin? 

Jim. Wal, by jingo, I guess you can! 
A woman can do more at settin to rights 
a cabin, than a dozen old prospectors 
like me. I thank you, miss, I thank 
you— 

Saryann. Call me, Saryann. 

Jim. Wal, I will — here, Saryann is 
the key. [Gives her key.] I put a load of 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 7 

grub in thar the other day, and I gu^ss, 
you'll find it settin around most any- 
whar. 

Saryann. Well, I'll clean up the 
cabin and get some dinner, if you want 
me to. 

Jim. Wal, 1 want you to, and I'll pay 
you for doin it — anythiDg you ask. 

Saryann. Don't mention pay, my 
friend. I expect to live among these 
people, and am anxious to attain their 
goodwill, — become one of them, 

Jim. Here's my hand, Saryann. [^SVaios 
hand in hers.'\ You've got me and my 
goodwill, right now, and I'll be hanged! 
if I don't see, you get the rest of 'em in 
this camp. We're common people here, 
but when put to the test, you'll find 
thar's gold in us all. 

Saryann. I believe you. I am going 
to call you, Jim. 

Jim. That's right, that's right! 

Saryann. I icve plain, simple people. 
I've met the other kind. They smile, 
but the majority of them have poison in 
the heart. 

Jim. You bet! Thar's some 'o that 
kind in town. They judges people by 
their dollars and tbe clothes they wear; 
not by the nature that's in 'em. 

Saryann. When dinner is ready, I'll 



8 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

call you. 

Jim. I'm migfhty glad you cum. 
[ Saryann ascends to cabin, unlocks 
door, and enters. She busies her- 
self in and arotmd cabin, hanging 
oat blankets and quilts. 

Jira. I'm the darndest, lucKieet feller 
in the world. Clean up that cabin! 
Why, I can't clean up my own. I have 
no more idee of what constitutes a clean 
cabin than a mountain-rat. And here 
comes a woman, a tine, nice woman^ 
takes the job off my hands, and invites 
me to dinner. I'm impressed with that 
woman. Thar's gomethin uncommon 
about her. Widder Flynn's all right, but 
she don't belong in the same category 
with that 'ar soft voiced specimen of 
humanity. 

Enter Dutch He^iry, L. Has green 

willow walking stick and stuff tied 

up in red handkerchief. 

Henry. Gan you dell me, vhere I am, 
mister? 

Jim. Wal, to begin with, you're in 
the state of Colorado. 

Henry. I know dot, but vot blace is 
dis? 

Jim. This is Gold Nugget camp. 

Henry. Dot's vhere I'm gomin to. 

Jim. Wal. you're here. 



THE MIN ER'S DREAM. 9 

Henry. [Setting down stick and bun- 
dle.] Is dere some goot gold here? 

Jim. All that we find is good. 

Henry. Is dere blenty of grount to be / 
taken? 

Jim. Worlds of it, 

Henry. Is dot so! Vot's your name? 

Jim. Jim Brier. 

Henry. Shim Brier? 

Jim. Yas; Jim Brier. 

Henry. My name is Henry Eichen- 
woortzel . 

Jim. Wal, I'll just brealc off the last 
part of your name, and call you, Henry. 

Henry. Dey used to call me, "Dutch" 
Henry. I'm a Dutchman, you bet! 

Jim. I thought you was as soon as 

I heard you speak. What you looking 
fer, a job? 

Henry Nod right now. [Takes out 
pipe and smokes.] At bresent, I aia look- 
ing vor rich minerals. 

Jim. You're prospecting. 

Henry. Yah, I'm brospecting. [Takes 
rock out of pocket] Here is a piece of 
rook vot I bicked oopon der roat, pelow 

II looks like dere vas sulphides in it. 
Dere may pe some kilurium in it. Vot 
do you denk aboud it? 

Jim. [Examining rock.] That may be 
good rock, but thar's a turrible quantity 



10 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

of it in this country. 

Henry. Is dot so! Blenty of it? 

Jim. Whole mountains. 

Henry. [Takes another rock out of 
pocket] Here is anoter kind, vot I fount. 
Dere maype semedings in dot, 

Jim. [Examining rock.] There may- 
be, but it would take an expert to find it. 

Henry. Is dot so — an oxbert! [Jim 
returns rocks to Henry.] Do you know 
vhere I gan fint a goot glaira? 

Jim. Most anywhar, whar you can 
find free-gold. 

Henry. Is dere blenty of free-golt 
here? 

Jim. To find, — yas. 

Henry. I look arount. [Puts rocks in 
pocke>t.] Gan I stob here, tonight? 

Jim. I don't live here. 

Henry. Oh, you don't! [Saryann 
comes out on porch.] Who is dot voman? 
[Points to cabin.] Does she live here? 

Jim. No, she's cleanin up the cabin 
for me. 

Henry. Is she your vife? 

Jim. No, she's a stranger. 

Henry. {Grinning.) A stranger! 

Jim. Yas, she jest cum. 

[Saryann retires into cabin. 

Henry. Is dot so! How far is der 
Golt Nugget von here? 



THE MINER'S DREAM, ll 

Jim. About a mile. 

Henry. Vel, I look arount ofer der 
country vor avhile, und vhen I gome 
pack, you show me der vay to der Golt 
Nugget mine. 

[PicJis up stick and bundle. 

Jim. I'll show you the road. 

Henry, {Extending hand.) I'm glat, 
I met you. 

Jim. I'm glad I met you. [They 
shake hands.] I hope you'll find what 
you're lookin for, 

Henry. Of I do, I haf a beenanzy. I 
look arount a liddle. Maype J find 
scmedicgs. 

[Qoing towards smithy. 

Jim. Keep your eye out for mountain 
lions. 

Henry. Mountain lions! Isderesome 
here? 

Jim. Yas, your liable to run onto one. 
Have you got a gun? 

Henry. [Draws large old-fashion 
horse pistol.) Yah, I got vone. 

Jim. That'll do. 

Henry. Vhere dit you get dot hump- 
pack? 

Jim. I caught it, lookin at a camel. 

Henry. Is dot so! 

Jim. Come around, after awhile, and 
we'll give you some dinner. 



12 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

tleory. I be dere. 
[Drops stick and bundle doivn near 
smithy, ascends mountain path to 
L.R.E. and exits. 

Jim. A stray Dutchman. He seems 
like a gcod, honest feller. He's after 
gold, but I'll bet he don't know anymore 
about rock than I do about the here- 
after. [Looks off. L.] Hello! here's a 
wagon coming up the road. That looks 
like Jo, on this side. I don't see no 
cap'lists with him. There's a feller 
driving- and — and — a woman. — Jo — yes, 
he's helping her out of the wagon. 
They're coming this way. 

Enter Jo Marlow and Mary 
Marlow, L, 

Jo. Well, if here isn't Jim! [Grasps 
Jinx's hand and shakes it.] I'm mighty 
glad to get back, Jim, mighty glad to get 
back. This is my young wife, Jim. 
Mary, this is my old friend, Jim Brier; 
the best friend, but you, J have in the 
world. 

Jim. {Dumbfounded.) This —your wife! 
Then, you're married! 

Jo. Married! (Z,a2tgr/is.) Of course. 

Jim. VVal, I'll he— [Smiles— extends 
hand to Mary.] Mrs. Marlow, I'm very 
happy to meet you. [They shake hands.] 
Very, very happy to meet you. [Mary 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 13 

looks ai'ound with surprise and disap- 
pointment.'] Quite a journey you've cum. 
^■^Aside.] Blatiied if she don't act hke 
she'd got into the wrong pew. 

Mary. [^To Jo. J Is this the mountain 
home you have told me so much about? 
Jo. Y'es, love, this is my little moun- 
tain home. — Our little mountain home. 
Enter Saryann from cabin with 
wuterpail and descends to tvell- 
spring. 
Mary. What woman is that? 
Jo. 1 don't know. Jim, who is that 
woman? 

Jim. She's a stranger. She jest came 
along here, today. She offered to cleau 
up the cabin, and I told her to go 
ahead. She says, htr name is .Saryann. 
Jo. I must thank her for her kindness. 
[Jo retires to Saryann at well- 
spring. Greets her with smiles and 
affability. Gets -water for her and 
carries it up and into cabin. He is 
followed by Saryann. 
Jim. iAside.~\ Jo's married a young 
woman. She looks like a kid. [To Mary.] 
I think, you'll like it here, Mrs. Mariow. 
The air is fine, 

Mary. I should judge, it is. 
.>;:ri. The water can't be beat. 
Mary. Jt must be excellent here. 



14 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Jim. Yas, \t comes right from the 
spring:. The mountains are full of 
springs. Jo never writ me anything 
'bout being married. It is quite a sur- 
prise to me, {Forced laugh.] quite a 
surprise. I think you'll like it here. 
Mary. {Disspiritedly.) I hope so. 
Jim. [Aside.] She don't act very 
cheerful aboul it. She seems down- 
hearted. I must cheer her up. [Aloud.] 
This country is all right, ma'am. The 
'arth is full 'o gold. And look, the 
June roses ars all over the mountain 
sides. The squeerrels are chattering, 
the chipmunks play in hide-an-go-seek, 
and the voice of nature is a sicgin in the 
pines. Oh, this is a grand country, Mrs. 
Marlow! I know you'll injy it as soon as 
git acquainted with &H it's beauties. 

Mary. Perhaps, 1 shall. But life 
demands something more substantial 
than mere beauty. It must be terrible 
here in winter. 

Jim. Not so tumble. Of course, thar's 
snow and some cold. But thar's plenty 
of wood, so we don't mind it. 

[Mary sits down on rock L.C. 

Mary. Have you been here many years? 

Jim. Quite a number. 

Mary. Have you a mine? 

Jim. I have several claims. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 15 

Mary, Do you get gold from them? 

Jim. Yae, some. — They are all prom- 
ising claims. 

Mary. I suppose you sell your gold, 
every month? 

Jim. I haven't had any to sell, so fur. 
My claims are all good prospects, but 
not payio mines, yet. 

Mary. Have you ever found a paying 
mice since you came here? 

Jim. No,— not yet. But I expect to. 

Mary. What do you do for a living? 

Jim. Work around, do assessment 
work fer others, and sell a piece of 
ground, occasionally. 

Mary. I hope when I understand it 
all, I shall like it better. 

[Enter Jo from cabin folloived by 
Saryann smiling. She nods affirm- 
atively to him, and retires into 
cabin. 

Jim. [Aside.'] I don't see no cap'lists. 
The way this woman talks and acts, I 
am struck with the idee, that thar's 
a shortage of cash somehow. 

Jo. [Decending to stage and advan- 
cing.] Come, Mary, we will go up to the 
cabin. I want you to see the inside of 
my little mountain home. It is rough 
dear, but with you in it, it will be a 
palace. 



iij THE MINER'S DREAM. 

[Jo and Miiry ascend to cabin and 
exeunt into it- 
Enter Henry L.R.E. and 
decends mo-antain path. 
Has viece of rock in hand. 

Jrni. Thar comes that Dutch tnao 
with a chunk of rock. 

Henry. [Advancing to Jim] Here is 
somedings fine. [Shows rock to Jim.\ I 
fount it oop in der mountain by a big 
dree. Dere's somedings in it, sure. It 
may be ponelite. 

Jim. [Examining rock.) It looks more 
like winderiight to me. 

Henry. Vinderlight! You poke some 
fun at me. You don't denk dere's any- 
dinge in it. Here's anoder b;eceof rock 
vot I fount. [Takes rock out of pocket.] 
Dot's ore, sure. Look, dere's pyrites in 
it. See, dey're sticking oud all drongh it. 

Jim. [Examining rock.) Thar may be 
something in this. Go and get a hat 
full, grind it up, and pan it. The mortar, 
pestle, and gold-pan is over thar in the 
smithy. 

Henry. I do dot. Maype I've fount 
a golt mine. 

[Exit up mountain path at L.R.E, 

Jim. Thaij Dutchman's rock crazy. 
He may find a mine. They say, a fool 
for luck. [Sits down on rock., LC) So Jo's 



THE.MINER^S DR EAM. 17 

married. I wonder if he got any money. 
If he didn't, his muiing work '11 go 
kind 'o slow. He's the most dead sure 
feller that he'll find it, I ever saw. But 
It takes powder and grub to open a mine. 
I blieve I'll go up to the cabin and visit 
with the folks. I am anxious to see more 
of the stranger with the gentle voice. 
[Ascends to cabin and exits into it. 
Enter Henry L.h.E. and 
decends mountain path. 
Has hat full of rock. 
Henry. I fount blenty. Shoostdenk« 
I gome here, look arount, und fount, 
yah, perhaps, a golt mine. Maype I get 
a hundert tousand dollar for it. I could 
buy a prewery mit dot. {Examines roek.) 
Dot looks looks like der real stoff. 1 try 
it vonce. [Goes to smithy and puts rock 
in mortar. Bringfi pestle and mortar 
forwad. Sits down on rock L.C.] No 
vone gan tell vot's in a rock until dey 
try it. {Pounds rock in mortar with 
pestle.) Of gourse, dere is rock mit golt 
dot you gan see. Dot is free-golt. Ven 
you get dot, you know you got it- 
(Pounds rock.) Maype der grount vot I 
got die rock on is logated. I ditn't see no 
stakes. Oh, veil! of it is, I logato some 
glaims on der end or der side. {Pounds.) 
Dere is somedings oxciting aboud dis 



18 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

brosbecting piziness. Vooe time you got 
It, und denn— you doo't got it. Dot's 
tine enough. I put it in der pan. [Picks 
up pestle and mortar, and goes to 
smithy. Empties mortar into gold-pan. 
Advances with gold-pan ] Now, I go zu 
der griuk und pan it. 

[Exit, L, 
Salter Jo and Mary from cabin. 
They descend to stage and ad- 
vance to center. 

Mary. I fear, Jo, we will have to 
struggle hard here to get the necessaries 
of life. 

Jo, Fear not, little woman, every- 
thing will oome. 

Mary. But, dear, what will we do for 
food and clothes while you are searching 
for gold? 

Jo. I will work for some mining com- 
pany until I get a stake, and then go 
bacK to work on my claim. 

Mary. {Taking out hill.) Here is all 
we have left. Twenty dollars. 

[Puts bill back in pocketbook. 

Jo, I am going to work at the Gold 
Nugget. I wrote to the superintendent 
while East. He said he would put me to 
work as soon as I returned. I requested 
him not to say anything about my appli- 
cation. I don't think he has. I expected 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 19 

to interest some folks back in our town, 
but I did not succeed. 

Mary. If you could find some wealthy 
naan to take an interest with you, and 
hold you up financially, while you were 
opening up your claim, everything would 
look bright to me. As it is, Jo, the way 
looks dark, ahead. 

Jo, Really, my dear wife, your fears 
are needless. A prospector never knows 
'/here his next dollar is to come from, 
but it always comes, just the same. 
People who are used to farm life, where 
everything moves with plodding certain- 
ty, don't understand this. 

Mary. I suppose the Lord provides for 
the prospector as he does for the birds of 
tho air,— or do prospectors live on air? 

Jo. Neither, my love, but we don't 
worry. It just comes, somehow. 

Mary. Perhaps, —somehow. 

Jo. I am strong, and will fight life's 
battle as well here as anywhere else. I 
have a rich prospect. A prospect that, 
I am absolutely certain, will become a 
raine. With a rich mine, my love, 
,S)Ouring it's gold into our laps, what 
more can we ask for? For myself, I am 
confident and well satisfied. I have you, 
now, to fill my life with joy and happi- 
ness. With you, I feel, there is no 



20 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

oondiLion of time or place, I could not 
conquer. With you and the claim, I 
have love and hope. Supported by love 
and hope, what m?..n, who is industrious 
and faithful, ever failed! Come, Mary, 
and see my mining ground. 

{They ascend mountain path and 
exeunt L.R E. 

Enter Jim from cabin with 
water pail. Decends to stage. 
Jim. Thai Saryanu is a remarkable 
woman. I wonder whar she came from. 
Work out! She don't look hke no hired 
help I ever saw. Work for widder Plynu, 
that old Hibernian! Seems like thar's 
somethin in my nature that rises up 
agin the idee. Maybe this strange lady 
is broke— plum out of coin. I'm sartain 
she's a decent woman. Never saw a 
woman before in my life, I was so taken 
with, in so short a time. If she's broke, 
I'm not! Maybe she's an angel m disguise. 
But thar isn't anything in this blamed 
camp that calls for the visit of an angel 
m disguise. I don't quite make it all 
out, but, pshaw! no man ever won any- 
thing wuth winning, that didn't take ^. 
chance. I'm goin to take a chance on her 
decency and goodness, if I loose. She'll 
not work for Bridget Fiynn, if I can help 
it. She'll do no hashing among that 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 21 

gang of gawping miners at the Nug- 
get — no, by gosh! not if I can prevent it. 
Enter Saryann from cabin. She 
descends to stage . 

Saryann. Are you going to bring 
that water? 

Jim. Wal, I plum forgot it. Come 
here. [Saryann advances to him.] Are 
you married? 

Saryann. {With a shudder.) No. 

Jim. Are you broke? 

Saryann. {Showing dollar.) This is all, 
I have left. 

Jim. Only a dollar! 

Saryann. {Returning dollar to pocket.) 
Yes; that io why, I am seeking work. 

Jim. I've a proposition to make to 
you. It may seem strange to you, but 
strange things often happen. 

Saryann. They are happening every 
day in this wide world of oury. 

Jin:;. I have a fine cabin, comfortable, 
and fall of grub. All it needs is a little 
settin to rights. Don't go to work. 
Take that cabin and live in it. I'll see 
that you don't need for anything, until 
something turns up fer you better 'an 
workin fer Biddy Flynn. You'll have 
the cabin all to yourself. I'll nerver 
come near it, except — Ahem! — you send 
fer me. 



22 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Saryann. I am a perfect stranger to 
you. Why do you make me this kind 
proffer? 

Jim. Why? Because I am a miner, 
and know what it is to be broke, and 
without friends — that's all. 

Saryann. For the present, I accept. 
God bless you. 

Jim. T never made any mistake doin 
anyone a good turn. I'm goin to be a 
brother to you. All I ask in return is 
fer you to be a sister to me. 

Saryann. Jim, I'll be a sister to you. 
Get the water. I will take it up to the 
cabin. The dinner is on the stove. 

Jim. Yas! Yas! [Gets water at well- 
spring. Saryann takes pail, ascends to 
cabin and exits into it.] The more I see 
of that woman, the more I'm convinced, 
she's no common, ordinary, biscuit- 
bakin, how-dy-yer-do female. [Enter 
Henry with goldpan, L.] Wal, did you 
find anything in that rock? 

Henry. I vas sure — but it don't pan 
oud. 

Jim. That often happens, Henry — 
often. I've pounded and panned enough 
rock to make a young mountain, and in 
most of it never found a color. If gold 
could be found in every rock, you and 
I wouldn't be lookin for it. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 23 

Enter Jo and Mary, L. R. E. 
They desceiid mountain path 
to stage. 
Saryann. {Coming oat on cabin porch 
and calling.) Dinner! 

[Exit into cabin. 
Jim. Dinner, Jo! Come, Henry. 
[Jim and Henry ascend to cabin 
and exeunt into it. Jo and Mary 
advance. 
Jo. What do you tiiink of my claim, 
Mary? 

[Wlary throws arms around Jo''s 
neck and drops head on his breast. 
Mary. {With sob.) I don't know, Jo. 
Jo. You love and I'll hope, and all 
will be well. Gome, dinner is ready. 

[Jo, with arm around Mary, leads 
her sloivly up to cabin. Exeunt 
into cabin. 



24 THE MINER'S DREAM. 



ACT IT. 

SCENE I. Inside Jo Harlow's 
cabin. Windows piled with snow. 
Door, L. Curtained opening to 
off R. Cot with curtains, right rear. 
Stove, left rear. Woodbox with 
ivood, behind stove. Table, right 
center. Large clock on shelf rear of 
stove. Chairs about room. General 
hardup appearance to ivhole scene. 
Mary discovered seated in rocking- 
chair at stove, warming. Annie 
with doll in her arms asleep on floor, 
right. 

Mary. Five weary years have passed 
away since I first entered this cabin. 
When I came I was a trusting young 
wife: now, I am a mother, despondent, 
and broken-hearted — a diappointed 
woman. 1 realized my mistake the 
instant I set eyes upon this place. As I 
foresaw, so has it come to pass. Hope 
without reality is the very emptiness of 
life. [Goes to window and looks out] 
Snow, nothing but snow! Oh, this dreary 
place! Oh, these lonesome mountains! 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 25 

Nothing; nothing but the hope, that Jo 
will strike it rich in the mine sometime 
— yes, sometime, sometime. He is my 
husband, and I suppose there is nothing 
for a wife to do but to submit. Annie, 
my child! Why, she's sound asleep! I'll 
put her in her little crib. 

[ Taken Annie up in arms and exits, 
R. 

Knock at doovj L. Door is 
pushed open gently. Tom Gor- 
don peers in for a moment and 
then enters. 
Tom. There is plenty of beautiful 
enow this winter. The unfortunate 
womani who wrote "Beautiful Snow" 
liked snow better than I do. The door 
was unlocked. Mary must be here. 
What a miserable hole for an attractive, 
intelligent young woman to spend her 
life in! Love in a cottage, indeed! Love 
in a prospectors cabin with potatoes, 
bacon, and flapjacks! All bosh! Love 
and poverty seldom companion long. 
Enter -^Mary, E. 
Mary. What, you here! 
Tom. Where's your husband? 
Mary. At the mine, 
Tom. You are alone, then? 
Mary. Tom Gordon, why do you 
come here! Please go away, Tom, and 



26 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

don't come here any more, at least, when 
you have reason to believe I am alone. 

Tom, I'd never come here, were it 
not for you. This is your birthday. 

Mary. Yes, I am twenty threa today. 

Tom. And Jo was forty two last June. 
^Laughing cynically. ^\ Love a young 
man but fool an old one. 

Mary. What do you mean? 

Tom. {Advancing and seizing Mary^s 
hand.) I mean I love you — that I would 
give my life for you. Come, Mary, be 
reasonable. Abandon this life and come 
with me. I will take you back mto the 
beautiful world, and give you those 
things, I know you yearn for. 

Mary. {Withdrawing hand.) I am 
soul sick. 

Tom, I have money. I have made it 
speculating in mines in this great 
mining state — Colorado. I bought 
Brier's ground two weeks ago. Paid him 
twenty five hundred for it. It joins 
Jo's claim, but I know Jo's off the vein. 
He will never get anything out of that 
ground. The gold is on the claim, I 
have purchased. Come, Mary, drop this 
millstone, and smile on me. I will make 
you happy. 

Mary. I must escape from this life. 

Tom. Why delay? You have strug- 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 27 

gled wi1;h hopes and toiled with 
dreams — hopes as vain as the fancies of 
a child; dreams as insubstantial as the 
rainbows of a summer shower. There 
can be no change, no reform. The 
conditions will continue. Nothing can be 
done, but to abandon them. What have 
you to depend on? Nothing, but the 
uncertain prospects of a mining claim. 

Mary. I feel at times as if I should go 
mad. 

Tom. Many a noble woman, with the 
patience of a saint, has wearied out her 
soul in the cabin of a worthless progpect- 
or, and ended her days in a madhouse. 
Come, Mary, let me help you. Let me 
save you from such a wretched end. 

Mary. I have listened to all you have 
said. I must have time to think it over. 
Now, go. 

Tom. One kiss — only one. 

Mary, Not now. Tom. Please go! 

Tom. Since you desire it, I will. But 
remember what I told you: Love a 
young man, but fool an old one, 

[Exit (it door ,L. 

Mary. With misery on one side and 
error on the other, which way shall I 
turn! Jo works hard, sleeps hard, and 
says little. But he fails, and I want 
success. Is there anything that strips 



28 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

tbe soul of woman of all it's adornments 
like poverty and silence. I have warned 
Jo, but, with haggard face and sealed 
lips, he toils on and heeds me not. I 
wish he would listen. I feel, I cannot 
much longer resist— Tom's love. [Sinks 
into rocking chaii' and sobs hysterically. 
Enter Jo Marlow at door^ L. Mary rises 
and hurriedly wipes eyes.] Why have 
you returned so early, Jo? Anything 
wrong at the mine? 
Jo. I have no powder. 
Mary. Why don't you get some? 
Jo. I have no money. Where's Annie? 
Mary. Asleep. 

Jo. You have been crying. What 
have you been crying about, my dear? 

Mary. I feel like crying occasionally, 
and so— I cry. That's all, Jo. 

Jo.( With an expression of deep pain.) 
Poor girl! 

[Picks up iron mortar and pestle. 
Exit at door, L. 
Mary. No powder. No money, How 
full of pain these words to the struggling 
prospector who thinks he sees his for- 
tune in the next blast! Jo is honest, 
kind, and true. And in everything else 
but the mine and it's future, sensible. 
No powder— no money. How pitifully 
th«se words affect me. [Rushes to door^ 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 29 

L. and calls. ^ Jo! Jo! 

Enter Jo at door, L. 

Jo. What is it, dear? 

Mary. {Throwing arms around his 
neck.) You have no powder, Jo -no 
money. But you have me. 

Jo. Yes, dear, but your soul is sorely 
tried. 

Mary. How about yours? 

Jo. Mine? I hardly feel as if I had a 
soul. What Iitttle I suffer seems only 
to increase my sympathy and pity for 
the sufferings of others. The ledge is 
looking better every day. But without 
powder and money, I am at a standstill. 

Mary. Why don't you borrow some 
powder? 

Jo. I have— from all the miners in 
the camp. I am ashamed to ask for more. 

Mary. Borrow some money. 

Jo. I have, already — more than I 
shall ever be able to repay, unless I 
strike it. 

Mary. Why not sell the claim? 

Jo. Sell the Golden Ledge! Sell the 
greatest hope I have on earth, and with 
the few dollars T receive for it pay up 
my debts, and go back empty-handed to 
the ranch and hopeless toil! Ask me 
anything but that and I will do it. I 
will not give up that mine, if the whole 



80 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

world forsakes me. 

Mary. {Pathetically.) Do you mean 
it, Jo? ' 

Jo. {Firmly but desperately). I meaD 
it, [Knock at door, L. Jo opens door. 
Enter Saryann and Jim at door, L.] 
Why, it's Jim and Saryann! 

Jim, Howdy, Jo! [They shake hands.} 
Thar aint no ground hog runnin 'round 
in this weather, and the squeerrels are 
keepin mighty close. 

Saryann. How are you, Jo? [Crosses 
to Mary,] And how are you, Mary dear? 

Mary. Very well thank you, Saryann. 
[They kiss.] Come by the fire and take 
off your wraps, [bb.] 

Jo. Jim, did Saryann bring you, or 
did you just oome along? I don't see 
how you got through the snow. 

Jim. I'll explain. Saryann's claim, 
the one she lives on, jines my claim, the 
one I live on, so we have to be kindo' 
neighborly— [Door pushed open, L. and 
donkeys head appears.] Snoops, you son- 
of-a-gun! this is no barn. Git out! 
[Kicks at donkey. Head withdrawn.] 
I'll have to go and shut that burro up, 
or he'll be in here settin in the rocking- 
chair with his feet on the stove. 

[Exit at door, L. Jo puts wood in 
stove. 



THE MINER'S DKEAM. 31 

Saryann. I've worried lots about you, 
Mary, for the last two months. The 
winter has been very snowy, and I feared 
A-Ucie might be sick. Jim managed to 
get to town two weeks ago, and bought 
such a quantity of stuff. He said he was 
going to bring some of it over to you. 
Ji m IS on the other si3e of sixty, but he 
works awful hard. He's growing more 
tump-baci?ed every day. I suppose, you 
have heard he sold his claim — that claim 
thai joins Jo's? Tom Gordon gave him 
twenty five hundred for it. Jim's 
tickled to death. 

Enter Jim at door, L. with 
arms full of groceries, 

Jim. Here, Mary, is a little barthday 
present fer you, and thar's more yet to 
cum. 

NL&ry. Thank you, Jim, ever so much. 
How kind of you! 

Jim. I don't let '^he squeerrels eat 
my grub. [Mary disposes of groceries.] 
I'm getting hump-backed, Mary, like a 
reg'Iar camel. Saryann said, I better go 
See a doctor. But I eat hearty and sleep 
like a tomcat — [Racket off, L. Braying 
and kicking of boards.] Thar's that 
darned burro trym to git out of the shed. 
He's the awfulest little devil to kick 
you ever saw. Ho kicked that lop-pared 



32 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

hound of Dugan's two months ago, and 
and the blamed dog hasn't been in sight 
of the place eince. How's the claim, Jo? 

Jo. At a standstill. 

Jim. What's the matter? 

Jo. No powder. 

Jo. Why don't you get souae? 

Jim. No money. 

Jim. That's jest wr.at I wanted you to 
say. [Takes out large old-faahioned 
pocket-book.] Here's five hundred dol- 
lars. I brought it along for you, 
{Taking money out of pocket book.) and, 
as soon as the snow settles, I'll bringyou 
over a hundred pounds of powder. 

Jo. {Taking money.) I'll take the 
money, Jim, and the powder too. Bud 
God knows when I wiK be able to repay 
you! But I must keep working that 
mine. 

Jim. Stay with it, Jo! It's the most 
promisin claim m the deestrict. 

Saryann. Where's Annie? 

Mary. Asleep. [Cry heard.] No she's 
waking up, 

Saryann. I must see the little dear. 
[Mary and Saryann pick up gro- 
ceries and exeunt, R. 

Jo. {Grasping Jim^s hand.) Jim, my 
old friend, how am I going to express my ^ 
gratitude to you! 



THE MINER^ S DREAM. 33 

Jim. By keepin to work on the mice. 
The gold is in your claim assure as the 
ground-hop: is in his hole. I think 
Gordon is fooled. That's why I sold to 
him. 

[TakeM out pipe and smokes. 
Jo. I hope you are right about my 
ground, Jim. A.11 there is to my poor 
life depends upon ihat claim. 

Jim. Stay with it, Jo. You'll get it 
all in a bunch, some day. She'll crack 
open some time, and show you streaks of 
gold runnin in every direction like the 
cracks in a broken winder pane. 

Jo. I'll not forget yoti, Jim, if I ever 
do strike it. 

Enter Saryann, R. 
Saryann. Come, Jo. Come, Jim. 
Supper is ready. You are hungry, I 
know, Jim. 
Jim. I could eat a burro! 
Saryann. Not Snoops, I hope. 
Jim, No, he'd kick the liver out of me, 
Jo. Jim, you go along with Saryann* 
and eat your supper, I cannot eat just 
now. I've not felt right for several days. 
I worked very hard, today, cleaning up 
the tunnel and drilling. I have had an 
exhausted and drowsy feeling, all the 
afternoon. While you are at supper, I'll 
just drop down on the cot and take a nap. 



34 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

I often do this, after a hard day's work, 
before I eat. It seems to revive me. 

Jim. All right, Jo. You'll feel better 
after your nap. 

[Exetmt Jim and Saryann, R. 

Jo. I know my young wife is wearying 
with my fruitless efforts — my unsuccess- 
ful search for gold. It seems in this life 
some are destined to fail, let them strive 
as they will. I am forty two years of 
age, and between me and all love, all I 
hope for, is that mine. 

[Sits down in rocking-chair. Lights 
half down. 

Enter Saryann, R. 

Saryann. Are you here yet, Jo? 

Jo. Yes, here in the rocker. 

Saryann. You better come and drink 
a cup of tea. 

Jo. Not now. I have no appetite for 
anything. 

Saryann. I am worried about you, Jo. 

Jo. Bless you, Saryann, I'ua not worth 
worrying about. 

Saryann. Don't speak likp that. I 
fear you are overworking yourself. 

Jo. I must work. 

Saryann. I know it. We must all 
work. 

Jo. 1 must tind that vein — find it 
socn. This poverty is getting unendur- 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 35 

able. My poor young wife! God help me! 

Saryann. {Starting towar'ds him.) Jo, 
I- [Restrains herself,] You have five 
hundred dollars. 

Jo. That five hundred dollars must 
be paid back. Other debts paid — paid 
soon. I cannot live on the kindness of 
others, nor tax the clemency of my 
friends much longer. 

Saryann. I have never seen you so 
despondent. 

Jo. I cannot submit to poverty. I 
cannot bear the censure and contempt 
that failure brings upon me. If my soul 
were dead, I might— but alas!— Oh, I 
have not been feeling right for some time. 
There is something wrong with me 
physically. 

Saryann. I am confident, all you 
need is rest. Stop work for a few days, 
and I know you will feel all right again. 

Jo. Stop work! How can I! 

Saryann. I am certain you have a 
mine. A few days will make no dif- 
ference in the long run. Listen to me> 
that's a good fellow. You know I wish 
you well, 

Jo. I know you take a wonderful 
interest 'n me. 

Saryann. Indeed, 1 do, Jo. 

Jo. Why do you? 



3 6 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Saryann. [Startled.] Because— because 
I sympathize with you in the serere 
struffgie of your life. I have fought and 
struggled with life. 

Jo. Have you? And been disap- 
pointed and laughed at in your most 
earnest efforts? 

Saryann. No one laughs at you, Jo. 

Jo. Perhaps not. I imagine things of 
late. I'm getting cranky, I guess. But 
I'm doing good work at the mine. I'm 
sure of It, now. [Rising.] If T had the 
powder, I'd go and put in a ehot, to- 
night. 

Saryann. Jo— Jo, you worry me! 
Really, I don't know what to say io you. 

Jo. {Dropping down in rocking-chair.) 
I'm puzzled, too. Have you ever been 
down to your last dollar? 

Saryann. Yes, yes- 
Jo. Did you give it up, not knowing 
where the next was to come from? 

Saryann. No; I found friends. 

Jo. Friends! That's what is crushing 
me. I have friends — the best of friends. 
They have done everything for me. But, 
I am still down, never up, always down. 

Saryann. {Seizing his hand.) Pardon 
me, my good friend, but I cannot help 
expressing my concern for your condi- 
tion, this evening. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 37 

[She dropa his hand 

Jo. What difference will it make? 1 
am still here with the bonds of honor, 
love, and necessity demanding suc- 
cess— success, where there is only fail- 
ure, only failure. 

Saryann. Oh! if I could /ieQ9 you, I— 

Jo. Thank you, Saryann, thank you! 
Mary and I have much to thank you for. 

Saryann. What can I do for you, Jo? 

Jo. Do for me? God bless you, no 
one can do anything for me. There is 
only one thing that can do for me, now. 
Only one thing that will bring sunshine 
into my life, rest to my mind, and justice 
to my friends. 

Saryann. What is it, Jo? 

Jo. Gold — gold. 

Saryann. If I had gold, I would give 
it to you. Give it all to you. 

Jo. In God's name!- would you, Sary- 
ann— all — to me? 

Saryann. 1 have no gold, and yet, Jo 
there is something I can do for you — 
something in this dark hour of your 
despondency and despair. 

Jo. Pray for me. 

Saryann. {With pathos.) I will, Jo, 
I will. 

[Exit hurriedly, JR. 

Jo. Were she my own sister, ihe 



3 8 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

could not pxpress greater solicitude and 
concern for my welfare. But Mary — 
Mary is young — poverty is killing her. 
\Groans.] What can I do? I cannot 
abandon the mine, now. I cannot 
throw down the drill, when I can see the 
yellow stain of gold upon it's point. No, 
by heavens, no! — even though Death 
waved me back, no. I must work on. 
I feel like I wianted to kneel down, and 
pray to God, tonight, to help me. Why 
should I? My heart has been a living 
prayer, lo! all these toilsome years, and 
with every year the burden of my life 
has grown heavier. [Lights very low.] I 
am in the dark. {Springing up.) What 
if I gave one maddening cry, would 
heaven hear me! [Trembles.] What's 
the matter with me tonight? My mind 
is running away with me. 1 never felt 
like this before. A. heavy drowsiness 
is creeping over me. I must sleep, I 
must sleep. 

[He retires into curtained cot in the 
right rear corner of the 7'oom. A 
pause — then dream in tableau. 
The rear scene fades away, and the 
face of a mine tunnel appears. 
Fuses, lit, spit along to loaded 
holes in wall of tunnel. Flash — 
explosion without noise. Rocks fall. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 39 

Jo enters tunnel with lighted 
candle; picks up piece of rock and 
examines it with enthusiasm and 
delight. Strong light thrown on 
wall shows it spotted and streaked 
witJi free^gold. Exit Jo from tun- 
nel, R. Dream tableau fades away. 
Light up, but very low. 
Jo. {Rushing from cot and calling 
loudly.) Jim! Mary! Saryann! {^With 
great excitement.^ I'va struck it! I've 
B\iV\xck'\V. [Enter Saryann, R. followed 
by Mary and Jim. Jim has lighted 
candle.] I've struck it! — See, the wall of 
the tunnel is ablaze with gold, Mary^ 
my love, my darlingr, your patience is . 
rewarded at last— at— last — 

[Reels, falls into rocking-chair, and 
faints. 
Jira. Quick! Saryann — 

[Saryann feels Jo^s face and pulse. 
Saryann. Mary; Jo has a terrible 
fever. 

Mary, That mine will cost him his 
life, and prove my ruin. 

Annie runs on, R. in night- 
gown. 
Annie. Where's papa? [Sees Jo, runs 
to Mm.] Papa — papa! [Drovs head in 
his lap.\ 

CURTAIN. 



40 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. Inside Torn Gordon's 
cabin. Table rear with gold scales, 
microscope, glasses, bottles, and other 
articles used in assaying and ana- 
lyzing for minerals. Large fireplace 
in rear scene. Fire burning. Door 
to right of fireplace. Tom's overcoat 
hanging on wall near table with 
deed in pocket, visible. Several 
chairs about room. Tom Gordon dis- 
covered seated near table examining 
some ore. Tom has jumper on. 

Tom. The claim I bought from that 
bump-baoked fool, Jim Brier, shows a 
neb streak, but the streak leads towards 
Marlow's ground, I am satisfied, n»w, 
Marlow has the body of the ore. I fear, 
my lead is biit a spur of the main Teim, 
and that the main vein is on Marlow^s 
ground. The course of my lead is not 
favorable. I'll get that claim of Marlow's, 
if I have to pay five thousand for it. I 
have offered his wife twenty five 
hundred for it. If she can persuade her 
loving husband to deed it to her, I'll get 
the claim, She's wild to get rid of it* 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 41 

and get out of the country. I must have 
that claim. [Laughs cynically.] I need it 
in my business. I'll help her out of the 
country, if I get the claim. Marlow is 
very sick. He may die. If he should, 
that will free his wife. If Marlow wasn't 
such a faithful, honest, doating fool, 
he'd see a few files in the milk by this 
time. But they say, love is blind. It is 
well that it is. What a fool Marlow is 
over that woman anyway! She wants to 
get away from him, but her conscience is 
tender. Well, she's working with that 
conscience of her's. She'll rock it to 
sleep some day, and leave old Jo sitting 
on his dump, counting the pine-cones. 
I believe I'll walk over and take a look 
at his mine. It is some time since I 
wae in his tunnel. I don't think any of 
his friends are working tliere now. 
[Puts on hat and overcoat. Exit at 
door, R. B. Speaks outside.) Whose in 
the mine, Henry? 
Henry, [Outside.] Plynn. He's loat- 

Tom. [Outside.] I'll be back shortly. 

Henry. [Outside.] Ve shoot, priddy 
quick. 

Tom. [02itside.] Good! I'll not b3 
gone long. 

[Report of blast from off rear. 



42 THE MINER'S DHEAM. 

Enter Henry at door, R.R. 
Henry. Dot's der blast. Veil, I'll 
shoost sit down vhile der eclimoke is 
giearing avay, und take a schmoke. 
[Takes out pipe and fills it] I am 
vorking for Gorton to get a hddle stake. 
Vhen I get it, I go pack und vork mine 
own glaims. I denk, I got a goiiple of 
dandies. Of I get a golt-mme, I don't 
vork any more, I puy a prewery und 
take it easy. {Lights pipe. ^ It'sdoo bad 
Sho Marlow is sick. Of he vas veil, I got 
a shob mit him. Sho's a fin© veller. 
[Sits down.] Dis Gorton is a qveer kint 
of shap. I don't like der vay he spooks 
arount, He seems to me like he vas 
grooked somehow. He has crosscut in 
his mine, und is on a beehne for Mar- 
low's grount. Of he gets on Sho's 
grount, dere'll be drouble— dot is of Sho 
find it oud. Grount is a goot ding, but 
it dakes money to oben it oop. Of a 
veller's got a goot glaim, und don't got 
some money, vot gan he do? Sho's got 
der best grount in der camp, but he 
don't got der money to oben it oop mit. 
Den he vork so haro, unt veel so bad, 
dot he got sick. Der Gold Nugget mine 
petered oud, Dere's noddings doing 
dere now. Dey thought dey hat a 
beenanzy. Of She don't strike it, der 



THE MINER^S DREAM. 43 

camp's deat. I hope he's gottm petter. 
Dot young vife vot he's got is down on 
der gountry. She don't like it here. 
Dey got vone kid, und Sho loves dot 
shild like it vas a liddle angel come 
down von heaven. Oh, Sho's a fine 
man! Saryann is taking care of him. 
Shim Brier is glean gone on Saryann, 
but he's afraid to tell her. I denk she 
likes me priddy veil. Of I strike a golt- 
mine, I dackle her. Of I got her, Shim 
vould go grazy. Maype he'd gommit 
zourzide. I don't denk Saryann cares a 
pretzel for der olt zardine. Vy, he's 
sixty yahr olt of he's a day. Und den 
dot hump on his back is nobe-;^oo-ty 
mark. Vot does an olt loon like dot 
vant mit a voman like Saryann! Vid- 
dow Flynn vants him, und she is all 
right vor him. Her son, Shack Flynn, is 
vorking here. 

Voice. [Outside.] Hello, there! 

Henry. Dot's young Plynn galling. 
[Rises, empties pipe, aud puts it in 
pocket. 
Enter Tom at door, R, R. 

Tom. Flynn is calling you, Henry. 

Henry. Yah, I go! 

[Exit at door, R. R. 

Tom* {Taking small package out of 
pocket.) Here are some of Mario w's 



44 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

drillings— tne drill hole mud or pulp. 1 
found it close to one of the lower holes 
he had drilled. I will examine it under 
the microscope. [Takes off hat and over- 
coat. Hangs overcoat on wall near table. 
Examines drillings with microscope. '\ 
Gold — yes, full of gold. [Takes another 
small package out of overcoat pocket] 
Here are some drillings from anothAr 
hole about three feet away from the 
hole of the drillings I Just examined. I 
will take a look at it under the micro- 
scope, [Examines drillings with micro- 
scope.] Gold — yes, full of gold. One 
more shot, and Marlow will be in a wide 
vein or shoot of ore. I must have that 
claim at any cost before_that next shot is 
fired. I'll investigate farther. I'll weigh 
these drillings, put them to soak in a 
cyanide solution, and tind out the value 
of Mario w's vein to the ton. [Weighs 
drillings. Pours some water into a glass^ 
and then some solution from a bottle. 
Holds up glass.] That's poison stuff! 
Pah! it smells like peach pits. If Mar- 
low's wife would get the deed to his 
claim, and then give him a little drink of 
that— 

Enter Henry at door, R. R. 

[Tom sets glass down on table. 
Henry. I vant a gouple of small ore 



THE MINER^S DREAM. 45 

sacks. 

Tom. I'll get them for you. 

(Exit L. 

Henry. Of I fint a golt-mine, I don't 

vork any more, dot's sure. [Sees glass.] 

Vot'sdot! Vater. Yah, I bin dursty. I 

dake a drink. 

[Raises glass to drink. 
Enter Tom, L. with small ore -^'"^ 
sacks. 
Tom. Stop! Hold on! That's poi- 
son — deadly poison! It would kill four- 
teen men. 

Henry. Is dot so! [Sets down glass.] 
I don't vant any. 

Tom. You want to be more careful 
around here, or you'll kill yourself, some 
day. [Gives Henry sacks.] 

Henry. {Going — aside,) Of I drank 
dot, vhere vas J! 

[Exit at door, R.R. 
Tom. I'll put the drillings iu the 
solution, let it stand for awhile, and 
then decant. [Puts drillings in mixture 
in glass.] If that Dutchman h&.d drank 
this dose he would have made a quick 
transit to the unknown. (Pushing glass 
far hack on table.) I should think the 
Dutch fool would know better. 

Enter Henry at door R,R. with 
specimens. 



46 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

Henry. (Giving Tom specimens.) Dere 
is a spot in der vail like die. It vas pig 
as your hant. 

Tooa. {Examining specimens.) This 
is rich looking ore, Henry. 

Henry, Yah, but I'm sure ve're glose 
to Marlow's glaim. Ten feet more vill 
pring us inside his line, dot's sure. 

Tom. It may turn, Henry. 

Henry. How gan it? Der mountain 
vont durn. 

Tom. We'll see. You will commence 
drilling at once. Flynn can hold 
the drill for you. 

Henry. Vot viU you do, of you get on 
Marlow's grount? 

Tom. That's my business. 
[Henry slyly plucks paper from 
Gordon's overcoat. 

Henry. {Aside.) I quit dis shob pnd- 
dy soon. 

{Exit at door, R. R. 

Tom. I'm beginning to think that 
Dutchman is getting too curious. 
[Knock off, L.] Come around to the 
other door. 

[Knock off, L, again. Exit, L. He 
immediately returns followed by 
Mary. 

Mary. Jo was able to sit up today for 
the first time in three weeks. I have 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 47 

succeeded in persuading him, as you 
suggested, to deed the Golden Ledge to 
me. The transfer was made before Jim 
Brier. He is a notary. 

Tom. Did Jo tell Brier he was going 
to give you the claim outright? 

Mary. No. Jo told him he wanted 
the deed made out to save bother in 
case of death. 

Tom. Excellent forethoughts 

Mary. I am tired of it all. Pay me the 
twenty five hundred dollars you offered 
for the claim, and I will deed it to you. 
But when I do, I can never go back to 
Jo. 

Tom. No; he would kill you. He is 
crazy over that claim. {Slips arm 
around her waist.) I am your only hope- 
Whenever you are ready to quit, come to 
me. (Aside.) I am confident I can eell 
the two claims in a short time for thirty 
thousand, at the least. {Aloud,) What 
will you do with the money after I pay 
you ? 

Mary. Give it to Jo. 

Tom. And then? 

Mary. Go with you. 

Tom, How about the kid? 

Mary. [After a mental struggle. 
Drops deed.] Her father will care for her. 

Tom. The tranfer of the claim can- 



48 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

not be made here. Brier is the only 
notary here. You wouldn't want him to 
, know- anything about our business, 
would you? 

Mary. Oh, no! 

Tom. Then we'll have to go to town, 
and make the transfer there. When will 
you be ready? 

Mary. Tonight. 

Tom. Good! I'll meet you at the 
forks of the road with my horse and 
cutter. 

Mary. I'll be there at nine o'clock, 

Tom. Good, again, my darling! 1 
suppose, I may kiss you now? 

Mary . Please, no. 

Tom. Well, have your own way. 

Mary. {Going.) Goodby! — At nine 
o'clock. 

[Exit, L. 

Tom. She's a charming little woman. 
Marry her! Yes, if affairs go right; no, 
if they go wrong. If those infernal 
officers get on my trail, — but tut, tut! I 
must not think of that. I have forty 
thousand dollars anyway, and that will 
carry me through. It takes a clear 
head and a cold heart to win in the 
world's game. 

Enter Mary, L. 

Mary. My deed! I dropped it. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 49 

Tom. {Looking down.) Here it is. 

[Picks up deed and gives it to her, 
Mary. What if 1 had lost it! 
Tom. That would have knocked our 
plaoB. 

Mary. Yes, I would have had to go 
to Jo, and ask for another deed. 
That might have excited his Buspicion. 
He trusts me implicitly now. 

Tom. 1 must have that claim for 
protection — for protection of my own 
ground. 
Mary. You shall have it, Tom. 
Tom. {Smiling.) And the wife with it? 
Mary. Yes, and the wife with it. My 
mind is fully made up. I have resolved 
to cast away the old, and accept the new. 
Tom. You have come to your senses 
at last. 

Mary. I can hardly bear to return to 
the cabin with it's sickness and misery. 
What do I care for a mine! I want 
comfort, society, and love. In the silence 
and lonesomeness of this horrid place, 
I have listened to the wild hopes of a 
man, who would sacrifice me and every- 
one else to their fanciful expectations. 
My mind is made up. I am resolved, 
fully resolved. It may be wrong, Tom, 
but I must escape from this living 
death. 1 can restrain myself no longer. 



50 THE MINER'S DREAM. ' 

[Throivs herself into Tom\s arms. 

Tom. (Embracing and kissing her.) 
Mine, at last! 

Mary. [Slipping from him.) At nine 
o'clock, Tom. 

Tom. Nine o'clock — at the forks of 
the road. [Exit Mary hastily, L.] I've 
won the wife, and in a few hours I'll 
have the husband's claim. 

SCENE II. The path to the mine. 
Enter Mary, L. 

Mary. Tomorrow everything^ will \)e 
over between Jo and me. Tom and I 
will take the train, and soon be miles 
away. The nexl thing will be to abso- 
lutely free myself from the man who 
deluded me with his talk of mines and 
wealth, and the beauty of his little 
mountain home. There can be no 
wrong in this — no wrong for me to 
disentangle myself from the net of 
poverty and misery he cast about me. 
By selling the mine, I'll save Jo from 
himself. When that claim is gone, he'll 
come out of his foolish dream. 
Enter Henry, L. 

Henry. Goot-day, Mrs. Marie w. How's 
Sho? 

Mary. He sat up tod^y. 

Heory. Den he's petter? 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 51 

Mary. Yes — some. 
Henry. He's peen very sick. 
Mary. Yes, very. 
Heiary, Dit yoa have der doctor? 
Mary. No; Saryaan took care of him. 
She seems to understand all about sick- 



tlenry. Dot's a goot voman! 

Mary. She's very kind. 

Henry. Dere's no humpoog aboud 
her. She's no hitity, goot for nix. Of 
she's a frient, she's a true frient. I bet 
she took goot care of Sho. Veil, Sho's 
a fine veller, und I'm glat he's petter. 

Mary. I must hurry back — 

Henry. Stob a moment, Mrs. Marlow. 
I vant to tell you somedings. Tom 
Gorton is drifting into Sho's glaim. Der 
ore leat is small, but very rich. Blease 
dell Sho to hang on. 

Mary. (Aside.) Another crazy mining 
fool! {Aloud.} I'll tell him. Good-day! 

{Exit, R. 

Henry. I thought I saw her goming 
oud of Gorton's cabin. Die other tay, 
I saw her valking mit Gorton in dis same 
path, und dey vas talking very glose rait 
each other. Dere's somedings oop. 
Maype Sho's vife is sick of him. He's 
an olt veller, und she's young. Gorton, 
he's young too, und got der money. Oh , 



52 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

deee vimmine! You have to keep some 
eoderdHinments for dem all der vhile, or 
dey ged avay. Let me look vonce vot 1 
got oud of Gorton's coat. I vant to 
fiut somedings oud vot he's oop to. 
[Examines paper.] Vy, it's Shim Brier's 
deet!— Und it's not regorded. Dot's 
lucky! I'll show dot Gorton somedings. 
I'll learn him vot it is ven he dells dot 
Irish Plynn, I got pretzels in my het, 
und schnakes in my poots. Shim is mice 
frient» und Sho is mine frient. Dey are 
both drue men, und Dutch Henry vill 
8tant by dem. 

Enter Tom, L, 

Tom. I thought you were in the mine. 

Henry. Doo much powder shmoke. 
I gome oud for a liddle fresh air. 

Tom. What are you doing over here? 
Hunting squirrels? 

Henry. No; spring shickene. 

Tom. You are getting quite bright, 
Henry, You'll be a smart man afteir 
awhile. 

Henry. You denk eo? 

Tona. You better go back to the 
mine and go to work. 

Henry. Vhen I get retty. Dot mine 
don't pelong to me, und I don't pelong 
to dot mine. 

Tom, Well, — what's come over you? 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 53 

Henry. Noddings isa gome over me. 
I'm shcoBt grawliog oud von un3er 
somedings. Vot kiot of poison vas dt*t 
in dot glass? 

Tom. Some cy&nide solution for 
testing for gold. [Laughs.] You don't 
think, 1 put it there to poison you, do 
you? 

Henry. Of I trank it, I vas a deat 
Dutchman. 

Tom. I'll have to be more careful of 
my stuff, or some fool ivill kill himself. 

Henry. Dot's right, Gorton, you'll 
have to be more gareful, or— you may 
get killed yourzelf. 

Tom. {Aiide.) I must get rid of that 
Dutchman. (Aloud,) Has anyone passed 
by here? 

Henry. How do I know! I haven't 
been here all tay. 

Tom. Well, — since you came? 

Henry. T shoost came. 

Tom. Did you see a lady pass? 

Henry. No, not since you game. 

Tom. Since I came! 

Henry. It vent avay shoost pefore 
you game, 

Tom. What went away just before I 
came? 

Henry. Shim Brier's burro. 

Tom. You make me tired! 



54 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Henry. Dot burro, he vent- 
Tom. Oh, d — n the burro! I am 
going away tonight. 

Henry. {Quickly,) Vhere you goin? 
Tom. Away. Here's the key. [Gives 
Henry key.\ Be careful what you eat 
and drink around that assay table, I've 
no time, at present, to attend a funeral. 
Henry. I eat und trink noddins by 
dot table, dot's sure. {Aside.) Byn 
Gott! I keep avay von dot table. 

Tom. Tell Flynn, we won't need him 
for eight or ten days. ' I may be back in 
a day, possibly not in a week. 

[Exit, R. 
Henry. Veil, now, I vas boss. [P'uts key 
in pocket.] 1 touched him oop a liddle. 
He don't vants to fire me yet — nod yet. 
I ditn't tell aboud Mrs. Marlow. I'm no 
shump. He vants to find oud of I saw 
her go py. Dere is somedingsoop. I 
find oud vot it is, priddy soon. I keep 
mice eye on him. [Looks off R.] Vy, he's 
going into Marlow's tunnel! I bet— y»h, 
yah— dot's it! Dot Gorton's a rascab 
sure. I vatch him vhere he don't see 
me. Of he don't look oud dere may be 
a funeral — breceded by a neg-tie party. 
[Steals offy R. watching and tip- 
toeing. 



THE MINER'S DREAM.^ 55 

SCENE III. Inside Jo Marlow's 
cabin. Same as scene in act second, 
Jo discovered seated in rocfcing- 
chair with quilts in chair and 
pillow to his head. Saryann stands 
near him with glass and spoon. 

Saryann. There now, Jo, taUe your 
medicine. 

Jo. I always take nay nuedicine, no 
matter how bitter. [Takes medicine.] 
You are very kind to me. 

Saryann. Some one must take care of 
you, Jo. 

Jo. Yes— Mary would, but she don't 
understand how to care for sick folks 
like you do. 

Saryann. It seems not. 

Jo. I'm hardly worth your kindness. 

Saryann. Don't talk that way, Jb. 
It is a real comfort to care for you. 

Jo. Am I a good patient? 

Saryann. The very best. 

Jo. {After a moments thought .) Did 
you ever love, Saryann? 

Saryann. What do you mean, Jo? 

Jo. Love a man? 

Saryann: {Confused.) That'g a queer 
question. 

Jo. Come to think, it is. But tell me 
this: if you loved a worthy man, and he 



56 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

loved you, would his misfortunes dis- 
hearten you? 

Saryann. No; they would bind me 
closer to him. 

Jo. That man would be fortunate in 
that love. Indeed, he would. What do 
you think of love? 

Saryann. I hardly know, Jo. Love 
brings joy, and love brings pain. 

Jo. A life without love must be very 
vacant. 

Saryann. Very vacant, very vacant, 
indeed. 

Jo. I have hungered for love. 

Saryann. You found it. 

Jo. Yes, I found it. But it seems 
sometimes that I might loose it, 
unless — unless my luck changed. 

Saryann. Everything will conae all 
right, Jo— all right. 

Jo. You comfort me, greatly. I don't 
see what I would have done without you. 
[After a pause.] I wonder why Mary 
was in such haste to have me deed the 
claim to her? I guess she thinks I'm 
going to die. Where is Mary? 

Saryann. She said, she was going out 
to get a little fresh air. 

Jo. (Simply.) She may Jaave gone over 
to look at the mine. Saryann, you don't 
think I'm going to die, do you? 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 57 

Saryann. No, Jo — gracioue no! You 
are getting stronger every day. 

Jo. Where's Jim? 

Saryann. He has gone to town. 

Jo, It is very lonesome without 
Mary. Please go and see if Mary is 
coming. 

Saryann. I will, Jo. 

[Exit at door, L. 

Jo. There is a noble woman. I am 
certain she has had some great trouble 
in her life. How strange, but somehow 
lately, whenever I think of Mary, the 
life seems to die out of me. I have not 
loved and caressed her as I did, when we 
were first married. I fear I have been 
too lost and absorbed in the mine to 
think and act properly towards her. 
Maybe somehow in this whole affair, I 
have made a mistake. 

Enter Mary at door^ L. followed 
by Saryann. 

Mary. {Coldly,) Are you feeling bet- 
ter? 

Jo. Yes, — I guess I'la better. 

[JSxit Saryann^ E. 

Mary. {Indifferently.) Have you bad 
anything to eat? 

Jo. Saryann made me a little broth. 
Where have you been, dear? 

Mary. {Taking off hood and shawl.) 



58 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

Out — out in the fresh air. 

Jo. [Smiling — simply.) Were you over 
to the mine? 

Mary. Over to the mine! What 
should I be doin^ at that mine? 

Jo. {Abashed.) I thought you might 
like to look at it. It is yours, now. 

Mary. You talk like a child. If you 
were not sick, I'd expect you to have 
some sense. 

Jo. I'm not very strong, yet, that's 
true. 

Mary. There is something in real 
manhood, that even disease capnot 
overcome. 

Jo. I don't quite understand you^ 
dear. 

Mary. You never have understood 
me, sick or well. 

Jo* I'm sorry. Maybe when I get 
out of this sickness, this po^verty, I'll 
understand everything better. Please 
give me a drink. [Mary hands Jo glass 
of water indifferently. He raises it 
towards his lips. Hand trembles. Ht 
spills water. Lowers glass and holds it 
with both hands,\ I am terrible shaky. 
Saryann will hold the glass for me, when 
she comes. Please set it on the tabl*. 
[Mary takes glass and sets it down 
sharply on table. Jo winces. A pauss— 



THE MINER'S D REAM. 59 

then, pitifully.] Come, Mary, let me 
hold your hand a moment. I w»nt to 
tell you how sorry I am for you; how my 
heart aches for the disappointment and 
misery of your life in this bitter struggle. 

Mary. {In gentler tone.) There is no 
need of that. The conditions are still 
here. Regrets don't change them. 

Jo. {Rising with effort.) If you won't 
cotue to Eue, I will go to you. 

Mary. {Positively.) Sit down. [Jo 
sinks down into rocking-chair.] In your 
delusion, 1 found despair; in your silly 
sentimentalism, I may find disgust. 

Jo. Mary, I do not understand you. 
Has something happened— some strange 
thing entered into your fancy, some 
viper of suspicion crept into your heart? 
Send Saryann away, if— 

Mary. Send Saryann away! What 
for? I hope you don't think, I'm 
jealouE of her? 

Jo. I— I didn't know. 

Mary. I am most grateful to her. 
She has relieved me of a task I could 
never have fulfilled. I would say somie- 
thing to you, Jo, something I ought to 
say, but I fear in your conditon, you are 
too weak to bear it. 

Jo. {With some resolution.) You are 
BO ooQBiderate, it must be important. 



60 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

What you have to say, say it, dear. 

Mary. (Sitting down in chair near 
table, R, Quietly.) Jo, I have resolvod 
to seek my own extricatioD from my 
present miserable existence, blow I 
shall do it, shall be a matter of my own 
determination. There are many thinge 
a capable woman can do to provide for 
herself, if not hampered with domestic 
cares. Will you release me from all the 
requirements of wife and mother until 
you are able to support me as a woman 
of refined mind and understanding 
should be supported? 

Jo. Youj heart is still with me? 

Mary, Poverty, Jo, 1 can no longer 
endure. Certainly, if you love me, you 
will not hold me to the treadmill of this 
comfortless existence. 

Jo. No, God bless you Mary, no! 

Mary. Will you give me my liberty* 
then, to act for myself without criti- 
cism or interruption? 

Jo. {Manfully.) Yes. 

Mary. [JSises, and pushes back chair. 
Takes ring off her finger.] Here is the 
ring you gave me at the altar of our 
marriage. Take it, and keep it until 
you can place it upon my finger again 
with the certainty that you can provide 
for me as my natur* requires. [Gives Jo> 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 61 



ring] Now, Jo, we understand each 
other. 

Jo. T feel as if I were in a dream. 
But I think I understand. How about 
Annie? 

Mary. She shall be your comfort. 

Jo. Thanks — thanks. [Sinks back in 
rocking-chair.] Thanks. 

Mary. It is time for you to lie down 
I fear you have been up too long. I'll 
fetch Saryaun. 

[Exit, R. 

Jo. [Looking at ring.) Mary is right. 
I am wrong. The mine is my only hope. 
If that fails me, 1 am lost. 

[Enter Saryunn^ E. 

Saryann. It is time for you to lie 
down, Jo. 

Jo. Here, Saryann, is a ring. Take 
it and keep it until I ask you for it. 

Saryann. A ring! 

Jo. Yes, a plain gold ring. If yoa 
are my friend you will do as I request. 
f am afraid, I might loose it. 

Saryann. I am your friend, Jo. 
[Taken ring.] 

Jo. Don't look inside of it, Keep 
it for me. I trust you. 

Saryann. I will do as you request. 
[Enter Mary, R,] Come, Jo, I will help 
you to your bed. [Jo rises. Sarijann 



62 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

assists him. Jo very weak and feeble. ] 

Jo. Come, Mary, let me put my arm 
about you. Oh! I forgot. 

[He puts arm over SaryanrCs shoul- 
der. She assists him to R. They 
exeunt, R. 
Mary. I could not leave him with 
hiB ring on my finger. The way is clear 
now. 

[Exit, R. 
Enter Henry at door, L. slyly. 
Looks around. Enter Saryann 
with a lamp, R. Sets lamp on 
table. She sees Henry. 
Henry. Shhhhhh! [Taps lips for 
silence, and beckons to Saryann. They 
tiptoe to each other to C. In whisper.] 
I vanted to eee you or Shim. Shhhhh! 
Here iB der deet Shim gave Gorton for 
der glaim. [Gives her deed.] For some 
reason Gorton dit not have it regorded 
ven he vas in town. Dot Gorton is a 
rogue, sure. Gif der deet to Shim, und 
dell him I vill oicblain ven ve meet. 
Shhhhhh! 

[Tiptoes to door, L. and exits, 
Saryann. How queer! There seems 
to be a growing queerness about this 
house, at the present time. Mary acts 
more and more, each day, like a woman 
with a secret. And Jo — poor Jo! — has 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 63 

become simple as a child. How fortu- 
na'c^e, I am here to care for him. 

[Lights lamp. 
Enter Jim at door. L. 

Jim. Wal, here I am. And I'm hap- 
py as a young squeerrel Lo git back 
agin. How's Jo? 

Saryann. Better, but still weak. Did 
you get the iron tonic? 

Jim. Sartain!— and a whole gallon of 
the best sherry wine, besides. 

Saryann. Jo will be all right, now. 
Here is the deed you gave Gordon. It 
is not recorded. [Given Jim deed.\ Dutch 
Henry brought it, and told me to give 
it to you. He said, Gordon was a rogue, 
and, that he would explain later. 

Jim. Wal, I'll be— 

Enter Mary, R. 

Mary. Why, Jim, you made a quick 
trip. 

Jim. I didn't stop to watch the 
squeerrels. I've brought the powder 
and I'm goin to work on Jo's claim to- 
morrer, if I can git a man to help me. 

Mary. Saryann, you better get Jim 
something to eat. 

Saryann. Come along, Jim, I'll get 
you some supper. 

Jim. Lead on, Saryann! I'd foller 
you to the ends of the arth. 



64 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Saryann. Yes, if there were any vict- 
uals there. 

[Exeunt Saryann a7id Jim, R. 
Mary, Now is my chance! 
[Mary gets pen, ink and paper, and 
writes at table, R. hurriedly. Drups 
note in roeking -chair. Puts on 
plush hood, woolen gloves, and 
heavy shaivl. Locks distractedly at 
R.E. and then exits hastily at door, 
L. Long pause, then clock strikes 
nine. Another long pause, and 
sleigh bells heard at distance from 
outside L. Another long pause, 
and Jo totters on from R 
Jo. I cannot rest. I have a smothered 
feehng to-night. I thought Mary 
was here. [Hand on rocking-chair, sup- 
ports himself and calls feebly.] Mary! 
Mary, where are you? [Sees note.] What's 
this! A note! [Picks up note.] It is 
addressed to me. [Reads] 

Dear Jo : 
I leave to-night, never to return. The 
horrid life of poverty and solitude, I 
have been forced to lead since our 
marriage, has destroyed all hope in 
me of your success. I shall sell the 
Golden Ledge for twenty five hun- 
dred dollars, and send the money to 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 65 



you. I hope you ivill care for Annie 
with more consideration for her com- 
fort and happiness, than you did 
for mine. 

Il IS Kigoed— Mar?/. And this is the end 
of love's journey— this is where we part. 
Sick; deeply in debt; a charge to my 
friends— this is the price we prospectors 
often pay for the developement of a 
raining claim. [Calls.'] Jim! Saryann! 
She has gone! She has gone! 

Enter Saryann and Jim, R, 

Saryann Who's gone? 

Jo. Mary. 

Saryann. Mary gone! Where? 

Jo. She has left me, forever. Where 
she has gone, or who she has gone with, 
I do not know. [Gives Saryann note.] 
I only know, she has gone— gone— [TFi^/i 
great pathos.] left me forever. 

[Sinks down into rocking -chair. 

Saryann. It is all true. Mary has 
left Jo. She says in this note, never to 

return. 

[Jo groans. 

Jim. I'll go after her. I'll find her, 
Jo, and bring her to her senses. You 
bet I will! 

Jo. {Rising to feet with effort.) No, 
Jim! I say, NO. If she wills to go, 
she must go. 



66 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

[Totters from rocking-chair. Is 
about to fall. Saryann catches 
him in her arms, 

CURTAIN. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 67 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. Jo Marlow's mining 
claim ^ the Golden Ledge. Mouth 
of tunnel with dump rear and to 
right of center. Grand mountain 
scenery surrounding. Mountains 
rising above mountains fringed with 
pine and cedar. Patches of snow 
here and there. Higher peaks cov- 
ered with snow. 

Enter Jim, R. leading a burro 
with loaded pack-saddle on, 

Jim. Wal, here we are. and thar is Jo 
Marlow's mine. It is some since I saw 
the old tunnel. [Removes pack-saddle 
from burro.] Come along, Snoops! 
I'll pint you f»r home, [Leads burro off 
R. Speaks off stage: "Now git fer 
honae." Slap of strap. "Git!" Enter Jim 
with leading strap in hand, R.] Poor 
Jo! he wanted to come, but Lord! Sary- 
ann wouldn't listen to it. She just eat 
her foot down on that. He begged like 
a good feller, but she wouldn't let him 
come, nohow. I wish I was sick myself, 
just to have her take care of me. Vm 
sartain she would. Widder Plynn don't 



68 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

seem to take to Saryann. I think she's 
jalous. Wal, I can't help it, if she is, I 
know I could marry widder Plynn to- 
morrer, if I wanted to, but I ain't so sar- 
tam about Saryann. I've half a notion 
to ask her. She promised to be a sister 
to me, and she has done everything fer 
me just like a sister, even to sewin 
buttons on ray shirts, and men- 
dm — Ahem!— my overalls. And then the 
pies and cakes she has baked fer me! I 
staked a claim fer her, and built her a 
good hewed-log cabin. She made the 
prettiest little garden in front of that 
cabin, and inside the cabin— Why! it's 
the neatest place in the world! You 
never saw such a woman to work as she 
is. She has actually made money sew- 
ing and nussin since she came to the 
camp. She made me take pay fer every- 
thing, I'd done fer her. 1 swore by all 
the stars in the sky I wouldn't take it, 
but she made me, saying, I would have 
to take it, or our brother and sister 
arrangement would ceme to an end. I 
couldn't stand that, so I took the money. 
Wal, I'll go into the tunnel, and examine 
the wall for ore. 

[Enters tunnel, lights candle, and 

disappears into tunnel. 
Enter Henry, L. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 69 

Henry. Veil, I dought I gome over, 
und dake a look at Sho'sdunnel. Gor- 
ton vent avay last night. Shordly after 
he left, der© gome some vellers looging 
vor him. Vhen I tolt dem, be had gone 
to town, dey rote avay qvick. Dere's 
somedingB oop! Vot it iss, J gan't dell 
yet, but I'm sure Gorton iss a rascal. 
Enter Jim from tunnel. 

Jim. Hello, Henry! 

Henry. Vy, hello, Shim! 

Jim. I've come to work on Jo's claim. 

Henry. I dought you do dot. 

Jim. Are you workin fer Gordon yet? 

Henry. Yah, but Gorton's gone avay. 

Jim. Gone, is he! Whar? 

Henry. To town. 

Jim. Whar's young Flynn? 

tLenry. He's gone home. 

Jim. Back to the Gold Nugget, hey? 

Henry. Yah, vhere his mutter is. 

Jim. When did Gordon leave? 

Henry. Last night. 

Jim. Last night! 

Henry. Yah, aboud nine o'clock. 

Jim. About nine o'clock! I smell a 
rat. 

Henry. I've schmelt more as a dozen 
rats since I peen mic him. 

Jim. I begin to think that feller's a 
d— d rascal. 



70 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Henry. Oh! he's a rascal, sure. I 
came priddy near goin oop der spoud by 
bim yesterday. 

Jim, Is that so! How was it, Henry? 

Henry, Vy, he put a glass of vater on 
his assay table, und I vas shoost goin to 
trink it, vhen he yells at me, dere vas 
poison in it vot kills fourteen men deat. 

Jim. You didn't drink it? 

Henry. I should say nod. 

Jim. Gosh, but you had a narrer 
escape! 

Henry. You bet, I dit! 

Jim, What kind pizen was it, Henry? 

Henry. He salt it vas cyanide for 
testing bulp for golt. 

Jim. For testing pulp! He's up to 
some cunning game. 

Henry. I saw Gorton schnooping 
arount here, yesterday. 

Jim. The deuce you say! 

Henry. Yah, I dit. 

Jim. I've got an idee, Henry,— an 
idee. You hear me, Henry, — an idee. 

Henry. Vot iss it. Shim, vot is it? 

Jim. I'm onto Gordon now. I've got 
his game. 

Henry. Oxblain, Shim, oicblain. 

Jim. Gordon is testing Jo's mud, — 
the drillings that come from the drill 
holes. He is testing for gold. He 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 71 

has found something, &ncl gone to 
town, — yas, he has gone to town. 

Henry. Veil, vol's dot got to do mit 
der drillings? 

Jim. I can't gather that part of his 
game, jest yet. 

Henry. Vot of he found dose drillings 
rich mit golt? 

Jim. Why, he'd know the next blast 
would uncover the vein — the gold vein. 

Henry. I see somedings, but I don't 
know vot I Bee yet. 

Jim, I'll be gosh hanged! if I do 
either. He don't want to let me find him 
pokin 'round here. I'd jest take a fall 
out of him, even if he did pay me twenty 
five hundred dollars. 

Henry. I pelieve Gorton vill neffer 
gome back. Dere vas some vellers on 
horsepack here, last night, lookin vor 
him. Vhen I tolt dem he vas gone to 
town, dey rote avay like dey vas af rait 
dey vould loose him. 

Jim. Rode like the devil, did they? 

Henry. Yah, yahl like der tevil. Oh, 
Gorton's a rascal, dot's sure. Und, so 
help me geevizz! I pelieve Marlow's vife 
has gone mit him. 

Jim. [After a momenfs thought] I 
believe you are right, Henry. 

Henry. I vonder vot Sho vill say of 



72 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

he finds oud his vife has gone rait 
Gorton? 

Jim. What can he say? What can 
any man say, if a woman wants to go 
away with another man? I don't see a 
goldaroed thing to be said, but to grin 
and bear it. 

Henry. Sho's vife vas too young vor 
him, anyvay. 

Jim. If she was old enough to marry 
him, she was old enough to be true to 
him, and faithful to her child. 

Henry. Dot's right, Shim. 

Jim. The world is full of these little 
birdies, that no more 'n hop onto one 
twig, than they want to hop onto 
another, 

Henry. Poor Jo! 

Jim. That's What I say. Poor Jo! 

Henry. I understant, Saryann is goin 
to town as soon Sho gets petter. 

Jim. To stay? 

Henry. Yah;— she's goin to teach 
kindergarten to schmall shildren. 

Jim. Who told you that? 

Henry. Vidow Schmidt. 

Jim. How did she find it out? 

Henry. Saryann tolt her. 

Jim. Saryann never said nuthin to 
me about it. 

Henry. [Changing the subject.] Sho 



TH E MINER'S DREAM. 73 

vas very fond of his vife. It must be 
hart on him, dot she is skibbed oud. 

Jim. He looks like a dead man. But 
aay, Henry, now that Gordon's gone, 
why not work fer me? The way things 
look in Jo's tunnel, I'm sure a couple of 
shots will bring us to what Jo's been 
lookin for. 

Henry. All right, Shim, I vork mit 
you. 

Jim. Jo left the holes all ready for 
loading. 

Henry. Dit Saryann gif you dot deet? 

Jim. Sure. Say Henry, you're the 
darndest, cutest, old sauerkraut, I ever 
saw in my life! 

Henry. Veil, I'm honest, und stant 
by my frients, und brodect decent peo- 
ples, don't I? 

Jim. You bet! {Extending hand.) 
Put her thar, Henry! [They shake 
hands.] I'm yours for everything, I got. 

ILenry. How about, Saryann? 

Jim. I hain't got her yet, but if I 
ever do get her, the feller that tries to 
locate her '11 have to send your uncle 
Jimmy to the sperrit world. 

Henry. She's a dandy. Shim! 

Jim. Wal, we better quit our gabble, 
and git to work. The giant powder is 
over thar in the pack. Take some of 



74 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

it into Gordon's house and warm it. If 
it blows up the house, come back and 
get some more. 

Henry. Dot's a h — 1 of a shoke! 
Jim. It would be, if you'd snap a cap 
in it. [^Henry laughs.^ I'll get the 
loadin traps together, 

[Retires hack, 
Henry. {Getting powder out of pack- 
saddle.) Schcap a cap in it! [Laughs.] 
Shim's a shoker, ain't he? 

[Exit, L. with powder, laughing. 
Jim. {Advancing with loading tools.) 
I wonder if that Dutchman has his eye 
on Saryann. Saryann said, she never 
could take to sauerkraut, so I'm safe on 
that score. 

[Lights candle, and exits into tun- 
nel. 
Enter Mary, R. exhausted. 
Mary. The officers took Gordon 
before we had ridden ten miles. He 
pushed me out of the sleigh, and 
whipped up his horse. Shots were fired, 
and I ran. I have trudged back 
through the snow.— Some one coming! 
[Hurries off, R. 
Enter Henry, L. with powder 
wrapped up. 
Henry, In dis vetter, der powder gets 
soon cool. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 75 

[Henry runs to tunnel. Jim meets 
him at mouth of tunnel with light. 
They disappear in tunneL 
Enter Mary, R. 
Mary. To be beguiled by a forger! I 
can never go back to Jo. He would 
spurn me. I fear, I am lost to all good. 
The world will point me out at- a 
creature of shame. The vei' of my folly 
has been lifted, and I see my delusion in 
all all of it's terrible reality. [It begins 
to snow.] Jo will never forgive me — no, 
never, — never, never— 

[H^irries off R. 
Enter Jim and Henry from 
tunnel on the run. They stand 
bach from ifs mouth. A pause, 
then loud report. Smoke comes 
from mouth of tunnel. 
Jim. That was a strong blast. Wal, 
come, Henry, we'll go to Gordon's cabin, 
and wait 'til the smoke clears away. 
Whew! it's snowing like fury, and then 
some. 

[Exeunt Jim and Henry, L 

Enter Mary, R. ivrdpping her 

shawl about her. 

Mary. {Wildly.) Where shall I go for 

food and shelter! I am an outcast! A 

wretched wife and a cruel, cruel mother! 

I will go to the mine. The tunnel is 



76 THE MlNER^S DREAM. 

warm, and there I caa rest my weary 
body. 1 cannot go there now. I must 
hide about until Jim leaves. That claim 
is all I have left in the world. It 
is mine. Here is the deed. I will not 
sell the Golden liedge, now,— no, not if I 
starve. I will keep it for Jo and Annie, 
But they will hate me. They will drive 
me from them. I cannot bear to — 
think— I cannot — 

[Oives a luw hysterical scream, 
and hurried off R. 

Enter Jim and Henry, L. 

Jim. I'm goin in, Henry. 

Henry. Der powder schmell must be 
priddy strong yet. 

Jim. I'm goin in, powder or no pow- 
der; smoke or no smoke. I feel in my 
bones we've struck it. Here I go! 

[Enters tunnel, lights candle, and 
disappears. 

Henry. Veil, Shim's gone in, Sho is 
a poor man now: maype vhen Shim 
gomes oud, Sho vill be der richest man 
in der gountry here. A mine is a fine 
ding vhen you fint der golt. Of I strike 
it vonce, I don't vork anymore, dot's 
sure. Veil, I be glat, of Sho got it. Sho 
iss a fine man, und vorked hart, und hat 
some awful tough times mit it. Of he's 
got it, efferypotty vill be glat. 



THE MINER'S D REAM. 77 

Enter Jim from titymel, ex- 
cited, and waving hat. 

Jim, Whoop! Hooray! No need for 
another shot to tell the story. Jo has 
won. The whole face of the tunnel is 
spotted and streaked with free-gold. It 
is thar, just as Jo saw it in his dream. 

Henry. Shake, Shim, shake! [They 
shake hands vigorously.] Hooray! Now 
show me der veller vot's got schnakes in 
his het, und pretzels in his poote! 

Jim. Jf Gordon doesn't come back by 
the first of the year, I'll have you jump 
hit- claim. Then we'll sell it to Jo, and 
divide the proceeds. It ought to bring 
good money, now that Jo has strnck it, 

Henry. You bet, I do dot. Veil, ve 
go to der house now, und take a 
schmoke, und— Veil, I got it in a shug. 

Jim. All right, Henry. The game's 
won, and we can take it easy. 

Henry. You bet! Vo schnap a cap 
in it. 

{Exeunt both, L. laughing. Snow 
storm increases. 

Enter Jo, feeble and tottering, 
on an eminence at R. R. E. 
Descends to stage. 
Jo. I slipped away from Saryann. 



78 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

The storm may kill me, but I could not 
restrain myself. Jim will strike it to- 
day, and I must be there when the gold 
breaks through, T must see it with my 
own eyes. No one here. [Advances, 
and looks around.] Yes, here is Jim's 
pack-saddle and the powder. I felt the 
jar of the blast quite awhile ago. May- 
be Jim is in the tunnel. He has struck 
it, I know he has. My dream was so 
real, it cannot but be true. God 
almighty will surely hear the cry of ray 
soul in this dark hour, and give me the 
only earthly thing that can lift me out 
of the deep pit of misery into which 
I have fallen: gold, gold, gold— 

[Totters to tunnel, excitedly. Takes 
candle out of pocket, lights it in 
mouth of tunnel, and disappears 
in tunnel. 

Enter Mary, R. very weary. 

Mary. I am certain it was Jo. He 
took the short cut through the timber, 
I see a light in the tunnel. He has just 
gone in. [Throws off shawl, R. front.] 
God give me courage and strength! I 
will' go and return the deed to him — the 
deed to the mine for which he has 
suffered so much. 

[Increase snout storm. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 79 

Jo staggers from tunnel, wild 
ivith excitement. 

Jo. My dream is true. The gold is 
there. The tunnel is ablaze — I am 
rich! I am freed from poverty and toil. 
[With dejection and pain.] Ohhhhll 
forgot;— I have deeded the mine to 
Mary, and, by this time, she has sold 
it— sold it for twenty five hundred 
dollars. No, I'll not believe it !!! The 
very angels would stay her hand. 

Mary. Jo! 

[Rushes to him. 

Jo. Mary, my love, — you here! 

Mary. I — I have come to give you 
back the— deed. Here it is. [Gives Jo 
deed. He glances at it and thrusts it 
into his pocket. Grasps Mary's hand.] 
Nay, l^t me go! I am no longer worthy 
of your love, nor even of your mercy. 

Jo. Let you go! Never, you willing 
to stay. The gold is struck, and we are 
rich. So come, Mary, and forgive me as 
I forgive you. What you have done, I 
do not care to know. We will forget the 
poverty and misery of the past, and look 
only to the peace and prosperity of the 
future. [Throws armn about her.] 
Though the storm beats upon ue, these 
arms are about you, dear. [Mary drops 
head on his breast. He kisses her.] 



80 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

My God, what ails me! 

[Staggers back from her. 
Mary. (Alarined.) What's the matter, 
Jo? 

Jo. And is this the end of it all! 
Mary, I am dying! 

[Reels, and falls in the snow. 
Mary. (^Looking ivildly down on Jo.) 
He is dead! [Screa7nsand rushes to L.] 
1 must have help! 

[Rushes off L. Snow falls heavily 
on Jo^s prostrate form. Voice of 
Saryann at distance, off right, 
calli7ig: " Jo! Jo! " This is 
repeated several times, each time 
call .sounding nearer. 

Enter Saryann, R. 

Saryann. {Still calling.) Jo! Jo! [Looks 
around anxiously. Sees Jo. Rushes to 
him, kneels, lifts up his head in her 
arms. With sobs and anguish.] He is 
dead! He is dead! [Kisses hi^n passion- 
ately.] I loved him — I— but he did not 
know — Jo! [Takes flask from pocket, 
pulls cork with teeth, and presses flask 
to his lips.] Jo!' [Corks flask and 
returns it to pocket. Rubs Jo^s face.] 
t[is eyelids move. — There is still life. 
[Jo groans.] Thank God. he still lives! 

Jo. {Coming to.) Why, it is Saryann! 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 81 

I thought Mary was here. 
Saryann. No, it ie I, Jo — Saryann. 

Enter Mary^ L. followed by Jim 
and Henry. 

Tableau. 

CURTAIN. 



82 THE MINER'S DREAM. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. Inside Jo Marlow's 
cabin. It is refitted and refur- 
nished^ showing wealth and comfort. 
Large business desk, R. Jo Marlow^ 
well dressed, discovered seated at 
desk. 

Jo. {Arranging papers.) It is tiow 
three years paat since the gold was 
struck. Since that time, the mine has 
cleared me, above ail expenses, three 
hundred and sixty thousand dollars. 
Jim, I made superintendent, and Henry, 
foreman. I gave Jim a check for 
twenty thousand, this morning, and 
Henry a check for a like sum. I have 
deposited twenty thousand in the bank 
to Saryann's credit. I will give her the 
bankbook today. Snoops, that bore the 
powder to the mine on the day of the 
discovery, is fed regular, Washed, and 
(jurried, and given the run of the place. 
He eats the flowers and gnaws the trees 
at his pleasure. Thus my gratitude has 
paid aomething of the debt, I owe these 
good people and the little burro, 
Snoops. Mary, poor girl, has been dead 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 83 

over two years. She Beemed to fade 
away like a flower in the frost since the 
day ot the snow storm. The greater my 
solicitude, and the more devoted my 
love, the faster she seemed to fade away. 
Maybe I was the frost. [Thoughtful 
pause.] Grordon resisted the officers, 
and they shot him dead. He had forged 
a note* for twenty thousand dollars. It 
was in connection with a mining deal. 
Shortly after I recoverd from my sick- 
neis, Saryann went to town to teach a 
class of little children. After Mary's 
death, 1 finally succeeded in persuading 
her to return to care for Annie. I was 
very fortunate in this. She has been a 
mother, indeed, to my little Annie. 

Annie runs on at doovy L. 

Annie. Oh, papa! come and see 
Snoops. He juoaps and jumpE, and acts 
so funny since I came back from the 
mill. 

Jo. Maybe Snoops likes you. 

Annie. Of course he does. He likes 
everybody but Dutch Henry. 

Jo. Snoops likes cabbage and Henry 
likes sauerkraut. Perhaps Snoops is 
afraid Henry will eat up all the cab- 
bages. 

Annie. I guess that's it, papa. 



84 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

[Jo rises and close* desk. 
Jo. Well, we'll go and see Snoops. 
{Exeunt Jo and Annie at door, L. 

Enter Saryann, R. Is very 
neatly dressed. Has feather 
duster in hand. 

SaryaoD, It is getting almost impos- 
sible to keep this old cabin clean. Jo 
bas built on several rooms, and with 
these I can do fairly well. He says, there 
are too many dear memories and old 
associations connected with this cabin 
for him to abandon it. Jo is a noble 
man, I have never seen his like. 

Enter Dutch Henry at door, L. 
ridiculously dressed up. He sets 
two chairs, C. Points to the one 
on the right, and motions to 
Saryann to take it, which she 
does. He hangs hat on other 
ehair to her left, and then sits 
down in the chair. 

Henry. Saryann, I baf gome to talk 
mit you. 

Saryann. Very well, Henry. 

Henry. Vhen I lofe a vomaD,Saryann, 
I can't shtant it. 

Saryann. Then why don't you forget 
her? 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 85 

Henry. Vorget you? Tmbossible! I 
dell you, Saryann, I lofe you, und vant 
you for my vife. Der boss gave me a 
sheck vor twenty tousand dis morning, 
und I'm brebared to dake care of a vife. 
Vi!l you marry me? 

Saryann. No. 

Henry'. No? 

Saryann. No! 

Henry. {Aside.) No is nein in German, 
und nein means nix. [Aloud.^ Don't you 
denk you could lofe me of you tried ^ 
Saryann? 

Saryann. No. 

Henry. No? 

Saryann. No! 

Henry. Veil, you must marry some- 
potty ! 

Saryann. Perhaps— 

Henry. It's too bad for a nice, blump^ 
sensible voman like you, Saryann, to all 
der vbile live by yourzelf alone. 

Saryann. Then you want to marry 
me, because you think I am lonesome? 

Henry. Dot's it, egactly. Vot do 
you denk aboud it? 

[Takes feather duster from Saryann 
and fans himself with it. 

Saryann. I think you are a good 
man, Henry, and I want you for a 
friend, not for a husband. 



Se THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Heary. {Taking her hand.) Voll, den 
ve drop der marry business, und say no 
more aboud it. Ve all der time be 
frients — goot fnents. 

Saryann. Yes, tlenry, I shall always 
be your friend, and I hope you will 
always be mine. 

Henry. Dank you, Saryann. [Jim 
peeps in at door, L.] Ve understant 
each other now. 

Jim. (Aside.) That Dutchman's pro- 
posin to Saryann! Jimmie '11 have to 
get busy. 

[Disappears. 

Henry. It ise mit regret, dot I am 
refused like a fish in der zee vot can't 
get caught. [Drops Saryann^s hand.] 
Oh , veil ! [Rlnes ; drops duster on chair, 
and takes up hat,] Veil, goot-tay. 
[Ooing — turns'] Ve alvays be fnents, 
anyvay. 

Saryann. (Rising.) Always, Henry. 
[Henry goes to door ,L ; turns, has 
back to open door. 

Henry. You don't denk you could 
give me der least hope, do you? 

[Donkey^ s head thrust in door, L. 

Saryann, No, Henry, J don't think I'll 
anarry anybody. 

Henry. How aboud Shim Brier? 
[Donkey, Snoops, nips him behind.) 



THE MINER^S DREAM. 87 

Achhhhh! Vot'B dot! [Grabs himself, 
and Uirns, — seen donkey.) It's dot t — d 
aeel! [^Donkey^s head withdrawn.) Git 
oud mit you! [Stands in door, and 
kicks oat at donkey. Swat heard, and 
Henry falls on back from door as if 
kicked by donkey,) He kicks awful! 
{Rising, hands on stomach— aside.) Oh, 
my, vot a pain! 

[Exit at door, L. nursing his pain. 

Saryaan. Poor Henry! It is evident, 

Snoops does not like his proposal. I'll 

warrant, Jim Brier is not very far away. 

[Pick* up duster and disposes of it, 

R, 

Enter Jim Brier at door, L. 
with fits and outbursts of 
laughter. 

Jim. Didn't that burro hand Henry 
a bunch! (Aside) I'll bet his crout-saok 
will be sore for a month. [Stops laughing 
abruptly; arranges chairs, C; points to 
chair right and motions to Saryann to 
take it, which she dons. He sits down in 
chair to her left.] Saryann, I've wanted 
to talk to you seriously for a lonj? time. 

Saryann. Any of your people dead, 
Jim. 

Jim. No,— they never die. But that's 
not it. I've something in my heart— 



SS THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Saryflnn. In your heart! Why don't 
you go and see a doctor? 

Jira. What's the matter with you? 
I don't want no doctor, I want a wife. 

Saryaun. Then why don't you get 
one? 

Jim. That's what I'm trying to do. 

Saryann. I didnt know you had been 
courting anyone. 

Jim. You didn't, hey? 

Saryann. Never heard a word. 

Jim, And had no idee, I suppose? 

Saryann. None whatever. 

Jim. [Gives a long whistle.} See here, 
Saryann, I'm clean gone on you, and I 
want to marry you. That's plain 
English. Now, let me hear from you. 

Saryann. I have always ooniidered 
you a true man, Jim, and a sincere and 
devoted friend. 

Jim. Will you marry me? (Aside,) 
How I am sweating! [A pause, — then 
to Saryann.] Did you hear what I aaid? 

Saryann. Jim, we have always beea 
good friends, have we not? 

Jim. Wal, I guess, yes! 

Saryann. Will I have to marry you 
to keep that friendship? 

Jim. Not by a darned sight! 

Saryann. Do you mean what you say? 

Jim. Sartin! (Aside.) I'm sweating 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 89 

like a raoe-horse. 

Saryann. Well, If you really mean 
what you say, and are the man I believe 
you to be, the time has coin© when 1 
must tell you — 

Jim. (Aside.) She's mine! 

Saryann. thai I cannot marry you, 
[Donkey^a head thrust in at door, L. 
Braying, and moving of donkey^a 
ears. 

Jim. [Jumping up and shaking his 
fist at donkey.] Snoops, you goldarued 
jackrabbit! you'd eat the grass off of a 
dead man's grave. [Ponkey^s head with- 
drawn. Jim sits down.] Saryann, you 
ain't goin to marry that Dutchman, are 
you? 

Saryann. No. If I were in the 
marrying mood, J would prefer you io 
him. 

Jim. Wal, that's some consolation. 

Saryann. (Taking his hand,) Jim, ray 
dear old friend, I am sorry that our 
friendship has been touched by this 
proposal. I cannot tell you what your 
good friendship and brotherly protection 
has been to me. But I cannot marry a 
man just because he has been my friend, 
aod been good to me. Nevertheless, I 
can regard him with a sincere interest, 
and an earnest good amII. The man I 



90 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

inaiT>', I must love, Jim, with that kiod 
of love ihat rises superior to all the 
affections of friendship,— that love that 
blends souls, and transforms a man and 
K. woman into one. Thiy is the marriage 
of God's sealing. And is it not written: 
"What God hath joined together, let no 
man put asunder." 

Jfm. Saryann your words astonish 
me. I never thought you had such 
beautiful idees in you . I see it plainly, 
that I am no more fit to be your 
husband than Dutch Henry. 

Saryann, Shall our friendship con- 
tinue in the same honesty, sincerity, and 
simplioity? 

Jim. (Jumping 2ip.) Yas, by gosh las 
long as grass grows and water runs, no 
matter what you do or who you mar- 
ry,— jest so you don't marry Dutch 
Henry. 

Saryann, {Rising.) Well, I'll never 
marry Dutch Henry. 

Jim. Then we'll fergit this, and go 
right on as we did before. 

Saryann. You dear, old Jim! I'm 
just going to hug you like a sister. 

\Hugs Jim. 

Enter Jo at door, L. 

Jo. Oh, excuse me! 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 91 

■ Jim. It's all right, Jo. Come right 
ahead. Saryann whs jest measuring me 
fer a new sweater. Wal, I must go back 
to the mill. 

[Exit at door, L. 
Jo. {Aside) It is as I thought. [To 
Saryann.] I expect, Saryann, you and 
Jim will want to get marne*.! soon. So, 
as a slight token of my gratitude to you 
for your great kindness to me and 
motherly care of Ann!t>, I have deposited 
twenty thousand dollars in the bank to 
your credit. Here is the bankbook and 
some blank checks. 

[Offers bankbook and checks to 
SaryavM. She does not t^ike them. 
Jo looks steadily at her. 
Saryann I'll never marry Jim. He 
understands that. 
Jo. Nor Henry? 
Saryann. No, I assure you. 
[Jo puts bankbook and checks back 
in pocket. A pause. 
Jo. Saryann, you don't look like an 
old maid. You have a fresh, matronly 
look— a motherly appearance. 
Saryann. I have been a mother. 
Jo. You have! You have never said 
anything about your child or husband? 
that 1 have ever heard of. 

Saryann. No. There are events in 



92 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

the life of each of us, which we «1o not 
care to talk about. 

Jo. {Advancing and taking her 
hand.) Ah! Saryann, T fear you have 
had a sorrow in your life, as I have had 
in mine. 

Saryann. I have, Jo. But you won: 
I failed. 

Jo. I understand you now. Prom 
the barren soil of failure, moistened by 
the tears of disappointment, t^prin^^s the 
delicate llower of charity. And if you 
have not charity, no mortal has! Come, 
sit down by me here, and tell me your 
story, 

[They «i7, C: Jo in chair to left- 

, • Saryann. My story is quickly told. 

y* I failed once, and have been strugj^ling 
with life ever since. I loved a man 
when I was very young, and they said I 
was very fair, but he betrayed me. My 
child died. The finger of shame was 
pointed at me, and I left. This is all 
my story. 

Jo. (ThoughtfuUy.) And he betrayed 
you. 

Sa yann. Yee, Jo, he betrayed nie, 
but the true purposes of my soul 
remained strong and steadfast. My love 
was my weaknt^ss, and my innocence, my 
downfall. 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 93 

Jo. Love was my weakness. But I 
thank God for that weakness, and the 
pnre Bimplicity of my nature in it. It 
is in such weaknesses as these that the 
soul revels. It is true, they are the prey 
of the world, as the dove is the prey of 
the hawk, — the lamb the prey of the 
wolf. I believe, Saryaon, you and I are 
very much alike in sentiment. 

Saryann. I am glad you think so, Jo. 
Keally, I do not want to leave Annie. I 
love her as if she were my own child. 

Jo. I've thought a great deal about 
that. It would break Annie's heart to 
part with you. 

Saryann. I won't leave her, Jo, and — 
I don't want to leave you. You are not 
strong, and are comfortable and happy 
now. I shall never marry — no — not 
unless — 

Jo. You do not look like a woman of 
thirty five, Saryann. I just noticed a 
remarkable light in your face. I am 
forty five years old, and, I guess, J look 
like a man of fifty. 

Saryann. There is that in you, Jo, 
that time cannot blemish. 

Jo. Do you think so? 

Saryann. Your sorrow was as my 
sorrow, but the more It erred, the more 
you sheltered it. Yours is a great heart. 



94 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Jo: — one that a true woman would 
delight to put her trust in. 

Jo. I fear, Saryann, you Imve formed 
too exalted an opinion of me. But, to 
tell you the truth, it is no greater than 
that which I have formed of you. Why 
leave Annie and me at all? Why 
not stay forever? 

Saryann. I want to, Jo. 

Jo, We have both suffered; both 
drank of the bitter cup of sorrow. And 
now, when happiness approaches, why 
not reach out our hands and receivf 
It? 

Saryann. I am ready, Jo. 

Jo. (Rising.) Then, since you have 
refused the others, it is now my turn. 
I must tell you frankly, you are 
my choice. There is no other living 
woman for whom I entertain a 
jjreater regard and respect; no other 
living woman, I would rather make 
the mother of my little Annie; 
no other living woman, I would rather 
walk side by side with to the end of 
life's journey. Will you be my wife? 

Saryann. {Rising and extending 
both hands to him.) Yes, Jo, gladly. 
I have loved you from the firet day 
I met you— from the time I talked 
with you at the well. Your earnest 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 95 

soul and sincere heart awoke m 
me at once the eternal sentiment — love. 
[Winds armfi around his neck and 
gazes into his eyes.] Yes, Jo, I am 
yours. Yours, until death do us part; 
yours, m whatever sorrow comes to 
darken our path; yours, in whatever 
joy comes to light us on our way. 

Jo. (Placing a hand on either side 
of her head.) How handsome you 
look to-night! You seem to grow in 
beauty. 

Saryann. Whatever we love, Jo, 
grows beautiful in our love. 

Jo. {Kissing her and clasping her to 
his breast.) Ah! my good, kind com- 
panion, we have come up through much 
tribulation, but we will wash our robes 
white in the blood of the I/amb. 

Enter Annie at door, L. 

Annie. Papa, what are you doing? 

Jo. I am coaxing Saryann to be your 
mama. 

Annie. {Clapping her hands.) Oh, 
goody, goody! I'm so glad! 

Saryann. {Throwing arnris around 
Annie and kissing her.) You little 
dear! 

Jo. After oAir marriage, Saryann, I 
will build a house in town, but we will 



96 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

itill keep up this old cabin. Whatever 
I have ODce taken into my care and 
affection I cannot give up. 

Saryann. Of course not. But Annie 
must go to school, and have the 
association of well-bred and respectable 
children. 

Jo. Most assuredly! 

Annie. I'm so hungry, Saryann. 

Saryann. Your bread and milk is on 
the table, dear. [Going.] Come, Jo, 
youUl want some lunch before going to 
the mill. 

[Exit Saryann with Annie^ R. 

Jo. She loved me all the while, but I 
did not recognize it. How simple! But 
I loved another— [CZocfc strikes nine, 
Jo startled and agitatedy listens.] Nine 
o'clock! The very hour Mary— Ah, well 
'tis past. I have found a wife, and 
Annie a mother. 

[Exit, R» 
Enter Jim in working clothes 
at door, L ' 

Jim, Wal, I've layed off my fine 
feathers, and come back fer the bosse's 
orders fer the night. The next time I go 
after a woman fer a wife, I'll make 
sure she's wantin me fer a husband. 



THE MINER^S DREAM. 97 

Wal, I cleaaed that Dutchman out, and 
that's some satisfaction. 

Enter Henry in working 
clothes at door, L. 

Henry. Veil, Shim, vhen's der ved- 
ding going to be? '' 

Jim. [Gruffly.] What wedding? 

Henry. You und Saryann. 

Jim. Never. 

Henry. Ditn't you bropose? 

Jim. Yas. 

Henry. Und she sait, vot? 

Jim. She didn't say, "vot." She said, 
no. 

Henry. Dot's shoost vot she sait to 

me. 
Jim. So you proposed to her, too, 

hey? 

Henry. Yah, I dit. 

Jim. And she said, no? 

Henry. Yah. Shim, do you know vot 
I denk? 

Jim I have no idee — not the least in 
the world. 

Henry. She's going to marry der 
boss, — she's going to marry Sho. 

Jim. By gosh, 1 never thought of 
that! 

Henry. Oh, sure! — Dot's vot she do. 

Jim. They'll make a noble couple. 



98 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

Honry. Shoost to denk, I vent und 
asked her to marry me. [Laughs excess- 
ively, and slaps knees.] Marry me! 
Shooet a crazy Dutchman! [Quieting 
down.^i But she fooled me, Shim. She 
vas alvays so kint und zimple, dot I 
thought, b}^ sheevizz! she vould marry 
me for der asking. 

Jim. That's jest the way it struck 
me, Henry. But when she opened to 
me the mind within her, my candle 
went out. 

Henry. Oh, veil! dot's der end of it 
for you und me. Most any man vill 
make a t — m fool of himself vonce in 
a vhile. 

Jim. Wal, we've had our holiday. 

Henry. Do ve vork to-night? 

Jim. Yas, you will put on the night 
shift at eleven o'clock. 

Enter Jo and Saryann, R. 

Jo. {Advancing to Jim and Henry.) 
I am glad you have come, my old 
friends. I have something to say to 
you. Saryann and 1 are going to be 
married soon unless one or the other of 
you object. 

Henry. {Aside to Jim in whisper.) 
Vot dit I tell you. 

Jo. You both made love to Saryann, 



THE MINER'S DREAM. 99 

and neither of you won her. I never 
made the least advance to her until she 
had rejected you both. Do I speak the 
truth, Saryann? 

Saryann. Yes. Jo. 

Jim. It's all right. 

Henry. Yah, dere iss no objection, 

Jim. You have my consent, Jo. 

Henry. Und mine. 

Jo. Then come and shalse hands, and 
call it square. 

[Jo and Saryann shake hands ivith 
Jim and Henry. 

Henry. (Aside.) Vot a sausage I must 
'a peen to denk I could marry a vomac 
like dot! 

Jo. Th© widow Flynn has been 
trailing you, Jim, for the last year, and 
the widow Schmidt has been smiling on 
b[enry ever since he came to the camp. 
Come boys, make these women hapf)y, 
as I shall strive to make Saryann. 
Saryann and I will be married two 
weeks from to-day. Get your partners, 
and come and be married with us. 

Jim. Jo, I'll be thar with the goods, 
[Exit Jim at door, L. hurriedly. 

Henry. Vidow Schmidt veighs throe 
hundred and sixty pounds, but I'll be 
dere mit der goots too, Sho, of der 
vagon don't preak down. 



100 THE MINER'S DREAM. 

[Exit at door, L. hurriedly. 

Jo. {Putting arms around Saryann.) 

There is nothing left for you and me 

to do, my good Saryann, but to make 

each other happy. 

Saryann. In you, Jo, I realize the 
dream of my life. 

Jo. {Smiling.) Then your dream 
has come true. I dreamt a dream once, 
the miner'y dream, and it came true. 
^ Saryann. Now I know that God is 
love; and, that He never forsakes the 
one who, in all sorrow, all adversity, 
all shame, is true to the divinity within 
them. 
Jo. Yours is a great soul. 

\ Annie calls off R. "Saryann.'* 
Saryann. Annie is calling. 
Jo. I am going to the mill. Good- 
night. 

[ Kisses Saryann, then picks up hat 
and goes to door, L. Saryann goes 
to R. They turn and gaze at each 
other. 
Saryann. Good-night, Jo! 

[Exit, R. 

CURTAIN. 
THE END. 



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